


Untitled Sims Fanfiction

by skull_commas



Category: The Sims (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blow Jobs, Canon is an expensive piece of equipment and I am an impetuous toddler with an absent parent, Choking, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love Triangles, M/M, Mpreg, Multi, Open Marriage, Pegging, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, just bros being bros and dudes being dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skull_commas/pseuds/skull_commas
Summary: It's a lovely morning in the Sims 4, and you are a horrible original character.
Relationships: Dina Caliente/Don Lothario, Don Lothario/Katrina Caliente, Gavin Richards/Original Male Character(s), Geoffrey Landgraab/Original Male Character(s), Geoffrey Landgraab/Original Male Character(s)/Nancy Landgraab, Mitchell Kalani/Original Male Character(s), Nancy Landgraab/Original Male Character(s), Summer Holiday/Original Male Character(s), Zoe Patel/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Katrina Caliente/Don Lothario

**Author's Note:**

> There's a bunch of sex happening, none of them realistic. Also future incest going to happen so beware and click off.

Dina Caliente stepped up to Sultry Springside in the quiet of night, achy and tired from her shift at the appropriately named Make a Dish. The metal gate swung shut behind her and she was almost at the steps when she realized someone was sitting there.

The porch lights were off, but she could still make out the outline of her older twin sister Nina Caliente lounging with the firefly glow of a cigarette between her lips.

The sight still sent a jolt of surprise through her.

“Hey.” The sighed greeting brought the smell of Uni-Camel brand towards her as Dina set herself down as well, wordlessly declining the offered cigarette. “How was work at Shake a Bitch?”

Once upon a time, Dina would have echoed the words and the two of them and their friends would have mocked the sims there on school nights, skipping homework to hang out at the park or even splash in the ocean when she used to live in Barnacle Bay. The Make a Dish there and here in Oasis Springs were nearly identical inside and out. The only difference was that she was working in this one instead of flirting with the bartender and getting her friends free drinks.

Dina stretched her legs out instead of giving Nina an answer other than “Long.” She bit back, “When are you getting a job?” or even a “You should quit smoking again” and settled with “What are you doing out here?”

Nina tossed the cigarette filter onto the ground. “Avoiding Trina and her new fucking boy toy.”

Ah. She never called Katrina by her that name unless Nina was angry.

Dina properly snubbed the cigarette out and tossed it onto a nearly overfilled flower pot saucer. Then emptied it out into an outside trash can. And then took it out to the bins in the back.

“Would you stop,” Nina snapped when she got back.

Too used to her sister’s anger spells, Dina sat back down and took off her shoes and socks. Nina was similarly barefoot and Dina could pretend that it was just like back then before Mom and Dad and her failed love life.

“A new one?”

“Yeah.” Nina shot her a look. “Guess.”

“Landgraab.”

That at least brought her out of her mood. Nina hacked between hearty guffaws. “Fuck you,” she wheezed.

Dina curled her toes on still sun-warm bricks. “One of the new kids that moved into Cacti Casa? Maybe that pretentious one?”

“Close. It’s Lothario.” When Dina did not react, Nina clarified. “Don Lothario.”

“I know which one,” Dina said coldly. “There’s only one Lothario we know.”

She felt bad, but one of her favorite parts of her sister was that she was quick to explode, but she was also quick to forgive. And now was no different as Nina grinned and shrugged at her.

Dina clutched her short hair back from her eyes and suddenly wanted a bath to get rid of the smell of the kitchen clinging to her.

“Do you think he knew she was our...” Dina trailed off.

“I would say yes, but with Don thinking with his dick, I’d doubt it.”

“We look alike. Our names even rhyme.”

“You think he waited around long enough to ask her name before trying to crawl dick first into her?”

Dina winced. “He didn’t see you?”

“Nope. He had _that_ glazed look. Didn’t notice me when he came out of her bedroom. I was at the computer. He was butt ass naked.”

Neither of them minded Katrina’s _gentlemen callers_ in the same house even if they were spending _high quality_ time together, but this blew through several lines. No wonder Nina was sitting outside.

“I can give him the old - ” Nina gestured with her fists, cigarette between her fingers.

“I don’t think he’ll stick around that long. Thanks anyway.”

“Bet I can still take him.”

The Don they knew way back when was a subject of intense discussions between the two Caliente twins when they were younger. He was aiming to be a sports player or something to do with muscles. But that was before three deaths, two lifestyle changes, and several moves across the country.

Now, Dina just stood up with shoes and socks in her hand. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

The living room lights were still on. Dina turned them off as the two of them went up the stairs to their rooms.

By the time she finally settled in for the night, it was three in the morning. Just as she was almost asleep, Dina could hear a whisper of noise and then -

“Oh, great,” she muttered to herself, sitting up and reaching for her headphones.

The only thing that changed in the years with Don Lothario was his endurance and rhythm game.

“Let me kill him,” Nina told her the next morning. Or rather, afternoon. Between Dina’s and Katrina’s late nights and Nina’s slothness, no one in their house had seen a true morning for the better part of several years.

Dina stared into the fridge, not seeing anything and still hearing fucking _Trina’s_ breathy moans in her ears. “Sure,” she muttered into the vegetable crisper that didn’t have any vegetables in them.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

A jaunty whistled tune floated down to them.

Dina resolutely slammed the fridge shut and as one, the sisters crossed their arms and walked over to the breakfast table closer to the stairs. They watched Don Lothario bounce down the stairs and do a double take.

He had a red graphic shirt, faded and stretched over his mouthwatering thick chest and shoulders. The facial hair was new. As well as his tattoos. His normally brown skin had turned ashened over the sight of them.

Dina felt a bolt of self-consciousness go through her. It was an old habit from her younger years, but she couldn’t help wishing she brushed her hair that was messy from being slept on wet and her own graphic tee and sleep shorts.

Nina, on the hand, seemed well prepared as she shook back her red mane of hair, haughty in her spaghetti top and underwear.

“Ladies!” Don Lothario exclaimed, eyes darting between several pictures, them, and the door. “Well! This is- ”

“Get the fuck out,” Nina snarled.

Don inched towards the door and the sisters watched him open it and pause at the threshold.

“Let me say that your mom is hotter than I remembered - ”

Nina used to be known for two things in high school: her short discus career when she broke several windows and Alec Trebo’s nose and her fantastic aim. The hot-headedness was something relatively new.

The brandished frying pan reminded Don Lothario of the two things in very quick succession when he just barely managed to dodge it on the way out. And he learned about the third thing when Nina ran after him into the street hollering.

“You come back and your ass won’t be the only flat thing in your pants!”


	2. Geoffrey Landgraab/Rory, (Nancy Landgraab/Rory)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Open Marriage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Rimming

Variety was the spice of life. Or so they say. Marrying one of the most powerful women in the country had Geoffrey promising himself to compromise with her, no matter what. Whether it was where to live, how many children, what angle the couches should be, her work hours, _his_ work hours, no matter what.

Compromise, compromise, compromise.

With it, he could at least pretend he was on equal footing with his wife.

He didn’t think it’d end up like this, pressed up against the walls of his own house to catch the piercing moans of his own wife echoing inside their bathroom, occasionally punctuated by answering groans in a considerably _male_ voice.

Malcolm was spending the holidays at an internship in San Myshuno. Nancy was supposed to be working late in her office. Geoffrey had left work at seven and had expected a quiet night by himself. Maybe order a pizza and watch _The Tonight Show with Tony Clifton_ or one of those sappy romance stories that Nancy always sniffed at.

Not that long ago, she had sat him down and introduced the idea of an _open marriage_ to him, not that their marriage was necessarily _closed_ , mind you. Every one of her relatives and the more dastardly of his had their paws in every part. They had orchestrated their meeting, the time and place of their dates, when to let them touch hands, when and where they should first kiss, etc.

But when she told him, all Geoffrey felt was profound relief. Their partnership was never a sensual one. Apart from children, they did not touch unless they needed to. It was an efficient relationship, their marriage. Geoffrey never felt particularly advanced in bed and for Nancy to look for outside relief was better than having them trying to search for it _together._

The shower turned off and Geoffrey found himself going downstairs instead of hanging around to see them or, even worse, barging in to size up the man pleasing his wife. On the way, he had to wonder if she had met him before or after she established their open marriage with Geoffrey.

She had never made any sounds during their time together, never mind sounds like _that._

Geoffrey found himself overwhelmed, pressing his fingers against his lip as he poured himself water from the tap, both behaviors that Nancy had hated. He had subsequently trained himself out of them. Or so he thought.

He made himself a light supper (garden salad) and forced himself to eat. He might have been hungry an hour ago, but Geoffrey could not find anything else that sounded appetizing.

Yet he was steadily feeling more and more ravenous.

Noises upstairs. Footsteps. The thump of a body and then. Bedsprings. Light and distant. Almost unnoticeable unless someone was listening for them.

Nancy would probably order a new bed anyway. It wasn’t like the two of them did anything strenuous on that bed anyway. Mattresses had to be replaced every twelve years, right?

Trying to ignore the sounds were unbearable, and drowning them out with the television did not sound any better.

In the end, Geoffrey returned upstairs to Malcolm’s room, opposite of theirs. He caught sight of his Plumbob in the reflections of the windows. It was a sickly yellow color.

Lovers claimed that they could see each others’. Parents claimed that their children’s split from theirs at birth. But every sim alive could see their own.

Geoffrey stared at it in the reflection of his computer monitor as he clicked through emails, anonymous pen pal letters, and a mindless game of BlicBlock.

He powered Malcolm’s computer off and pressed his fingers to his mouth again, wishing for something to eat. All the wealth at his fingertips and he was still starved.

“Good evening, Detective.”

Geoffrey jumped as someone entered the door that he was almost positive he locked.

He didn’t recognize this sim. And he stood out.

The sim was fit, muscular with sharp collarbones and veiny arms. Miles of dusty pink, almost red skin even if he was wearing some deteriorating boardshorts. Some sort of line art tattooed his chest. He was barefoot and shirtless. His hair was cotton candy pink and he had the bluest eyes. So blue, they seemed to cut into him all the way across the room.

Something lightning jumped through his skin. “Hello,” he managed to say after the second try.

The sim smiled with all his teeth. “Hello,” the sim said back. “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

Geoffrey didn’t tell him that it was well into the evening. He could only nod. “I’m Geoffrey Landgraab.”

“I’m Rory.”

Right. At least the man his wife was sleeping with was friendly.

Rory ran his fingers over his chin, eyes still on him and Geoffrey had an inane feeling that Rory knew everything about him, down to his very thoughts.

“She fell asleep before I could ask if I could get something to eat.”

Ah. A part of him wanted to show Rory out or dismiss him like Nancy would. But he didn’t have the heart. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I can fix you a salad or maybe some grilled cheese?” Geoffrey was already out of the chair when he realized that Rory wasn’t making any moves to leave for the kitchen.

“I’d like that,” he said simply and continued to watch him.

Geoffrey could feel sweat gather at his upper lip and his temples. To be a good host (if anyone could call him that) would mean that he would have to go to the kitchen to ensure that Rory had a good meal. But that would mean getting closer to him and Geoffrey already felt like he was on the edge of some precipice, teetering on whether to fall on one side or the other.

He was never good at heights.

“I. Yes,” he stuttered and tried not to think of anything as he passed Rory to go downstairs. Rory only moved slightly to get out of his way, but Geoffrey couldn’t help the feeling that the other sim had only done so to make sure that his chest remained pressed against Rory’s as long as possible. He smelled like Nancy’s fancy shampoo.

That sent another feeling arcing through him and he tried to keep it inside himself all the way down to the kitchen, the second set of footprints quiet behind him.

In the end, he made neither another salad or grilled cheese. Geoffrey had put together a tofu stir fry from some leftover ingredients in the fridge, Rory seated at the island counter where Geoffrey had shooed him to whenever he started to help. It was the combination of being a good host and not wanting to find out what he’d feel if he touched Rory directly, without the barrier of fabric between them.

Every time Geoffrey turned around to answer another question, he found that Rory had changed seats until he was almost directly behind Geoffrey. By the time the food was done, they were almost knees-to-knees and Geoffrey was minding it less and less every time they touched through his practical pants.

“I’m not hungry,” Geoffrey lied when Rory raised his eyebrows at the single serving that he laid out.

“It’s good,” Rory commented after the first few bites.

Geoffrey twisted his hands together. “Oh,” he said faintly. “That’s good.”

“No one’s ever cooked something for me before.”

Geoffrey started to open his mouth, started to call him a liar, but closed it. Why was he about to start an argument with his _wife’s lover?_

Instead, he busied himself with the dishes. He could have left it for the maid in the morning, but it didn’t feel right to be sitting and watching Rory eat and it didn’t feel right to leave him alone either.

His hands went through the motions and he was almost sure that if he turned around, he would have seen Rory inch around the kitchen counter closer to him. His glasses were sliding down his nose. Was it the steam of the water? Himself?

He felt something brush against him and he almost jumped.

“I can get that,” Rory murmured right in his ear. And took the sponge from his grip, tangling their fingers together.

This time, Geoffrey did jump, and dropped everything with a clanging noise into the sink. “I’m.” He flushed and stuttered and then practically ran back up the stairs. “Shower,” he blurted out over his shoulder at Rory standing, covered in water and soap suds. The image burned into his mind as he flung himself into the bathroom.

It was still a bit humid from its last use. Something Geoffrey tried not to think about as he turned the water on as cold as it would go. The half-hard state of his penis did not enjoy enduring the entire ordeal. But it was better than the alternative: a clumsy jerk-off session that lasted three minutes and then another twenty minutes obsessively scrubbing down the tub to make sure every bit of himself was not left.

It wasn’t until he was staring at his amber Plumbob in the mirror did he realize that his robe was in his room along with his underwear and pajamas. Running into Rory or Nancy was not ideal, but nor was the idea of seeing them asleep together, curled around each other with the room smelling like sex.

He tied the towel around himself and eased out into the hallway, wishing he had the brains to use Malcolm’s bathroom.

Avoiding looking out into the floor to ceiling windows (Nancy’s idea), Geoffrey quickly dried himself off in Malcolm’s sitting room where he first met Rory.

Who was sitting in the armchair near the bed, feet apart, watching him.

Geoffrey almost dropped his towel.

For a few moments, they stared at each other. Then Rory got up and walked towards him.

“I feel like I’ve been chasing you this whole time,” he said and Geoffrey ached all over again. “You didn’t seem to _not_ not like it. But I need to be sure.” His eyes were _very_ blue.

“We only met an hour ago,” Geoffrey felt compelled to point out. But his voice sounded distant, even to him. There were other things he wanted to say. Like _aren’t you supposed to be with my wife right now_ and _I’m really not that kind of guy_. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, “I’ve never been with anyone except her.”

It sounded like permission and Rory seemed to take it as such. With one hand, he touched the edge of the towel and with the other, he thumbed Geoffrey’s nipple.

He jerked and everything, from his toes to his scalp, tightened.

“I’m more than okay with that,” Rory said, thumb rubbing slowly, up and down.

Geoffrey swayed and dropped his towel.

Some minutes later, he found himself kneeling on the same armchair that Rory was in, the one Malcolm used to read a book or set his backpack on when he came home from school. It was (unsurprisingly), a Nancy-approved purchase. His fingernails bit into the top back of it as Rory flicked one nipple and rubbed at the other.

Somewhere along the way, Rory had gotten rid of his pants and was only wearing his underwear. Every time he brushed against the small of Geoffrey’s back, his own penis jumped against his stomach.

He felt like weeping or screaming. Rory had produced lube somewhere and was taking his time fingering Geoffrey open, soothing and circular, occasionally taking a slick finger to trail along his front or up to his chest before going back down again.

“I’m ready for the next part,” Geoffrey heard himself say, still from some far away place.

Rory left a sucking bruise on his shoulder blade and added another finger.

A shattered groan reverberated up from his chest to his throat. “I’m ready. I’m ready, Rory.”

He was answered by a longer stinging bruise. “You’re really not.”

Geoffrey gritted his teeth against another groan as Rory twisted his fingers inside him, toes curling in response. There was lightning under his skin. He couldn’t stop shaking. Never in his life did he feel like this. Starved and just a bit violent.

“Rory, _please._ ” He sucked in a breath as the fingers left him. There was a click of a lid and then they came back, wetter and colder.

“Not yet,” Rory breathed into his back. “Almost, Detective, almost.”

For some reason, Geoffrey thought back to the moment he was pressed against his wall, listening to Nancy moaning a stranger’s name and felt his temper rise. He unhooked his fingers from the chair and around the bulge at Rory’s front.

He didn’t care about what he looked like at that moment. Compromises, Landgraab names, the fact that he was dripping onto his son’s favorite armchair. None of that mattered.

Behind him, Rory’s eyes were still so blue, watching Geoffrey’s feel out his shape and each change over Geoffrey’s face.

“Okay, you’re ready.”

Geoffrey categorically refused to use his son’s bed. In the end, he spent that time panting into the armchair fabric, muffling his moans into the seat as Rory took him apart.

It hurt. Rory had warned him before he entered. But beyond it was a different burning that set Geoffrey ablaze.

Rory might have been the studious type in school, Geoffrey thought in between breaths. Because the first few minutes of being seated inside, Rory had experimented with a combination of depth, speeds, and angles, learning him as Geoffrey was learning himself. And then he was off.

The garbled mess of words and sounds stunned Geoffrey. They felt punched out of him, as he screwed his eyes shut and listened to them along with the smack of flesh against flesh and the wet thrusts.

His hands gradually lost their grip and he ended up half on the floor, Rory adjusting with every slip, movement liquid and smooth even as Geoffrey babbled and scratched at the chair, his hair, Rory’s hands on him.

When he came, it was a bit of a surprise. Geoffrey had gotten over the initial embarrassment and was humping back to meet Rory. He had snuck and hand down between his legs, but Rory beat him to it.

“Fuck!” he yelped as Rory pinched Geoffrey’s nipple and, at the same time, squeezed one of his balls.

It all jumbled up from there. Between coming for so long, his brains went to mush, he felt Rory pick up speed, breathing in heavy gusts across his back. Geoffrey’s whimpers only seemed to encourage him as he squirmed from the overstimulation and Rory finished by grinding into him, fingers unyielding around his hips when Geoffrey tried to tense away.

“Fuck,” he said, this time for a different reason. He was sticky and sore. Scrubbing the chair for twenty minutes definitely won’t hide every bit of evidence. And additionally -

Rory graciously laid down Geoffrey’s towel so he could sit on it, propped up against the armchair.

“I forgot the condom,” he told Rory dumbly who waved it off.

“I’m clean,” he told Geoffrey lazily. “Nance made sure of it.”

“You call her ‘Nance’-” Geoffrey began when Rory palmed his erection like he wasn’t even aware of it. Geoffrey’s own tried to make a valiant reappearance.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to be hard for this.”

For what, Geoffrey wanted to ask, but he got his answer.

Rory pulled him by his legs until he was laying down, staring at the ceiling. Then he propped up Geoffrey’s hips with Rory’s own thighs and got to work, fingering him and then swallowing him down to the root.

By the time they finished, Geoffrey was weeping. He had regained his hardness, came down Rory’s throat once, and then another time across his own belly, soft.

He woke up the next morning in Malcolm’s bed, unbearably sore and exhausted, with no thoughts in his head. The sunlight spelled midmorning and Geoffrey could have kissed the ground for having the day off today.

“Good morning.”

Geoffrey rolled over, squinting a little to see Rory next to him, pink hair still in tufts. He had felt them firsthand the night before. But Rory wasn’t speaking to him.

Nancy was standing at the doorway, a cup of coffee in her hand. She was silently drinking, looking at the towel on the ground, Rory’s pants, the armchair, Rory’s morning wood, and then at Geoffrey frozen in their son’s bed.

“I’ll send the maid up when you’re done,” she said to Geoffrey like she had to Malcolm every time he threw a fit and destroyed his chemistry set, chess set, or art table. To Rory, “I’ll be in _my_ room when you’re done.”

“Sure, Nance,” he called distractedly, already coaxing Geoffrey up to swing his leg over and sit on Rory’s face. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I don’t think I’ll make it ten minutes,” Geoffrey told him, lost in the hazy of sleep, shame, and the feeling of Rory’s breath on his inner thigh.

Rory nipped at the skin there and Geoffrey briefly suffocated him. “I’ll be gentle,” came his muffled voice.

And lo and behold, within three minutes, Geoffrey finally let Rory lick up into him and another three minutes later, he was riding Rory’s chin until he came messily into the softness of his hair, overwhelmed with the warm, wet feel of his tongue and the scratch of his five o’clock shadow.

Geoffrey collapsed onto his side, wheezing.

Rory sat up and slapped Geoffrey’s leg which sent another seismic shock through him.

“I really liked this,” he told Geoffrey’s shivering body. “Let’s meet up again.”

By the time Rory took another shower and brushed his teeth with a toothbrush Nancy practically forced on him, Geoffrey was already sleeping again and when he woke up, there was another sim bringing up an armchair up the stairs along with the boxes containing a new bed.


	3. Rory/Zoe Patel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, lots of "bro" and "dude"

Ah, fuck.

Life never went the way she expected it.

She spent most of her life with little to no friends. And then in a matter of weeks, she not only made three great friends-for-life kind of connections, but she managed to move out of her parents’ house with them in a totally different city with an okay paying job (all right, it sucks, but it pays her part of rent) _and then_ , meet a hot guy in the park.

One thing led to another and now he was eating her out on her pink bedspread.

Speaking of which -

Her body curled like a pill bug as her orgasm poured out of her in delicious waves. Her legs wouldn’t stop twitching even as she came down. Was that normal? What if he hit some sort of nerve in her with his tongue and now she has twitchy legs for the rest of her life?

Totally worth it.

The guy had eased back to rubbing maddening circles on her mons right above her clit and he seemed to be gearing up to go again when someone began banging on her door.

“Come in,” the dude called and every muscle in Zoe’s tensed for an entirely different reason.

“ _Do not come in_.” Her voice was much higher than usual. Did anyone notice? She tightened his head between her thighs. He took it as a sign to continue and Zoe had to drag a pillow over her face to muffle her noises.

“Rory, bro. You coming out tonight or what?”

Oh, yeah. When Hot Guy got to her place, he had spent a good half hour bro-ing it up with her roommates before she managed to drag him into her room. They had promised him a “good time” even though it would probably be the same as every weekend: getting drunk at the Solar Flare and then somehow ending up at Rattlesnake Juice before getting kicked out and wandering around the Mirage before passing out at home.

“Huntington is busy hitting the gym, but he said that he’ll meet us there. He’s been developing these super sweet sets of deltoids. Front and back.”

“He’s insufferable.” Gavin’s voice was more muffled like he was farther away. “You’ll hate him.”

“Don’t say that, bro. You’ll give him preconceived notions about Huntington before the dude even meets him.”

She was going to die. She was going to come again while hearing her roommates talk about the least sexiest man she has ever met. They were going to hear her come through the door and walls and then they won’t be able to be cool with her anymore. She was going to have to fill up the Horny Jar up. She wasn’t going to be able to pay rent on time. Oh Plum, oh Plum, oh -

Then Hot Guy, Rory, stopped and sat back.

Zoe grabbed his hair before he could get away and almost screamed.

He just grinned at her. “When are you bros planning to leave?”

“Hmm. Maybe fifteen minutes?”

Rory licked the crease of her thigh, seemingly contemplating something. “Okay. I’ll meet you dudes there. I just gotta think of some excuse to call in sick to work tomorrow.”

“Oh, man! Is it going to be that kind of party? I’ll call in sick too!”

“No way, man! Mitch, you _just_ got that promotion.”

Mitchell and Gavin began arguing back and forth. Zoe furiously guided Rory’s stupid, hot mouth back on her and he went easily.

“Zo, bro, you coming too?”

 _Almost_ , she said, but bit her words back. Rory was rubbing his nose _just right_ against her clit as his tongue curled into her. Could they hear his quiet moaning and wet smacking sounds?

“Maybe I’ll stay in tonight,” she called back, voice surprisingly normal. “Gotta get up early tomorrow, you know?”

“Zo, bro, doing that _nine_ to _five_.”

“Cranking out that _dough._ ”

“Hey, bro, help me with this?”

As soon as she couldn’t hear any footsteps, Zoe shoved the pillow against her mouth just in time as the molten liquid feeling combusted from her center to the very roots of her hair. Her knees collided with something hard and she squealed into the pillow, shaking.

When her legs stopped twitching, she looked down and saw Rory rubbing his cheek. His cute, pink hair was standing on end and his pink skin glistened.

Fuck, he was hot.

“Did I concuss you?” she slurred out.

But Rory just grinned at her again. “Nah. I managed to dodge most of it.” He was still wearing all of his clothes. Meanwhile, Zoe’s leggings were hanging off one foot and her dress was flipped up to her stomach. And her underwear was who knows where. It didn’t even match her bra. She had not prepared to get laid tonight.

“You really going out with them?” Zoe couldn’t stop the pout that had entered her voice. She snagged him first, _garnar frash!_ She had gone up to him sitting at the park at the chess table and struck that conversation. Sure, the whole _The sun is messing with my eyes; can I take you home to get a better look at you_ line wasn’t the best, but it got him here, didn’t it?

Rory pressed his palm against her opening. Not hard. Just enough to feel the heat of him against her. Zoe felt herself blushing from the point of contact all the way up to her face. Could he feel her getting wetter? Why was that a thing when she just had his entire face up in there already?

“I can make it up to you?” Even his eyelashes looked pink. Was that possible? Maybe he was naturally a strawberry blond and it was just the lighting in her room. “The whole time before I have to leave?”

Her roommates weren’t the most civilized sims, but they were punctual. By the time Mitchell and Gavin left (almost fifteen minutes later to the second), Rory had managed to coax a slower, less satisfying orgasm out of her before ripping out three more, one right after another.

The last one had her wailing, shoulders the only thing touching her bed while Rory had her thighs up on his shoulders, holding her up with one blood-hot hand while the other curled and uncurled furiously in her. His tongue was undulating dangerously without cease against her clit even as he slurped and gasped and _gasped_ -

“ _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!_ ” she shrieked, even as she held onto his stupid hair and then came so violently, she almost fell off her bed. She let out a piercing death knell and let Rory drop her back onto the bed, still gasping.

By the time her brain went back online, she thought of two things. One: She might need to use her inhaler and two: she needed to apologize to him because she practically squirted up his nose. Also, she needed to do laundry again. And take a shower. She had her own slick in her _bellybutton._ Shit.

When Rory came back, he was much drier than before and carrying a washrag. “Dunno whose this is, but it smells clean,” he offered. He started to wipe her down, but Zoe was both incredibly awkward and sensitive so she grabbed it from his hands to do it herself, clumsy as hell.

This did not seem to offend Rory in the slightest (another in the win column). He just adjusted himself in his pants which made Zoe throb so hard, she ended up clutching her vag, curling away from him.

“Do not come near me with that,” she hissed.

“Oh, nah.” And then, completely unperturbed, tucked his boner into the waistband of his shorts. The head of it was nearly purple and Zoe saw his pubes and happy trail (both fucking _pink_ ) for a split second before he let his shirt fall over it again. “Gonna meet up with the bros. It’ll probably go down by the time I get there.”

Zoe was almost tempted to try and get him to stay. But then he laid a kiss on her knee and her crotch let out another angry reminder that it needed a break for maybe two to twenty _weeks_.

She nudged him away. “Leave. I think you made me pull my entire ass muscle.”

“Told you I’d make it up to you.”

“I’ll give you all the money in the communal Horny Jar if I can walk to work tomorrow.”


	4. Rory/Gavin Richards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: just bros being bros and dudes being dudes, Public Blow Jobs

“Bro!”

“Bro!”

Mitchell gave Rory a hearty smack on the back and then grabbed his arm. “Dude, seriously? Did you get more jacked in the last two hours?”

“Possible. You never know.”

“Fuck you.”

He slung his arm around Rory’s shoulders and pulled him into the Solar Flare, passing couples making out near the entrance, and up to the second floor.

The layout gave the lounge an otherworldly appearance, seemingly floating in the darkness of the night. The inside was dim with lights strategically placed to have pockets of shadows in corners and a pink glow for the rest of the room. True to its name, the Solar Flare had a lot of seating, most of which were taken and then retaken, swapped and swapped again.

There was a balcony leading to the outside air and a solo guitar player in the corner. She had red hair and the white dress she was wearing had been dyed a floral pink from the lights. It clashed horribly with her hair. But it didn’t stop her audience from bursting into laughter as she played a few bars, told a joke, and then played again.

“That’s her!”

Mitchell jerked his chin at the guitar player’s direction.

“A new lady friend, bro?” A sim in tight black jeans and a white leather jacket leaned in on Mitchell’s other side. He seemed very determined not to look in Rory’s direction.

“Nah, it’s not like that! That’s Katrina. She’s the one who gave me some really good feedback on my tight five. You know, the ones about the grim reaper joining a band and sims having a child as a sworn enemy.”

“Ah, but means you got your foot in the door!” The sim punched at Mitchell’s arm.

“She’s probably already taken,” Rory mused out loud.

Finally, the sim looked at him.

“You can tell, bro?” Mitchell waved back at Gavin who seemed to have snagged some seats at the bar.

“Well, yeah. She’s -” The word ‘pregnant’ danced on his tongue and Rory just managed to swallow it back down. “With that guy over there.”

‘That guy’ was an olive skin man wearing what looked like a red dinner jacket. He was seated closest to the guitar player and would exchange a few words with another sim seated next to him. Rory wasn’t lying either. The man’s eyes would rove back to the guitar player every now. This and Katrina’s barely there pregnancy could not be a coincidence. It was not noticeable for most sims, but Rory was not most sims. There was no ‘healthy glow’ nor any rounded belly, but Rory could tell.

It was part of what let him do a lot of things.

“Oh, The Don,” said Mitchell knowingly the same time the other sim on his side made a retching noise. “He’ll probably talk to you since you’re new around here. Oh, speaking of which. Rory, Huntington. Huntington, this is Rory. He’s the bro I texted you about.

Huntington did not look at Rory again until he slid into the last bar seat ahead of him. He gave Rory a flat smile. “It’s J Huntington the _III_.” He shot a look at Mitchell who was already ordering a drink.

“What did I tell you.” Gavin shook his head. “Insufferable. He either needs to fight or fuck everyone he meets. Until he gets it out of his system, he’ll be getting dick measuring contests with you. Then he’ll be a little less of a douche.”

“Excuse me, I am a specimen for _women_ to enjoy -”

“Zoe dick-punched him to get it out of the way if you wanna do the same.”

Rory chuckled even after Huntington the _III_ shot a hateful look in his direction. “We’ll figure it out together,” he told Gavin and then gave the sim in question a smile with all his teeth. Huntington sniffed and pointedly turned his back on Rory. The other two shifted uneasily in their chairs.

“Bro, here. You can take my seat and -”

“Nah, bro, it’s cool. I saw someone over there I know. I’m going to catch up with them and come back for a drink in a few minutes.”

“Hell, yeah! Hang on. You like Ridgeports? Can I get two Ridgeports please?” Gavin called out to the bartender who flipped three bottles in quick succession and then dropped a fourth. “Take your time,” he added a bit quieter.

As Rory was walking away, he could hear Mitchell say, “You always do this, Huntington, _every time_ when it’s anyone you think is cooler than you -” Followed by a high pitched indignant screech.

Rory did know a few people at the lounge. There was Grayson, whom he met at one of the seedier clubs, whose dick Rory sucked. Then there was Annette who blew him at SpaceY before Rory quit. And then Drew from The Other Sports Team (no joke, the actual name of his workplace for a week before Rory quit) who cried from losing a game and whom Rory had given a very sad handjob to. It had been awkward even for his standards. Also a premature ejaculator.

They all seemed to be with someone for the evening so Rory politely did not bring up any of their sordid pasts. Nor proposition them to their tangible relief.

Really. Even Rory could read the room.

“Nice,” someone said behind him.

It was The Don. He was standing near the windows, but the volume of the room had dipped at just the right time for Rory to hear him. Katrina was standing a little ways away from him, talking to a sim who appeared to be the lounge owner.

Rory went straight up to him like a reeled fish. “Pardon?” he said with _just_ the right lilt in his voice.

The Don quirked his lips, but did not smile. “I said ‘nice.’ You guys fucked, right?” He nodded to Grayson, whose neck was very red. The back of his buzzcut was bobbing at whatever his partner was saying.

“No.” At the other sim’s raised eyebrows, Rory conceded. “I just blew him behind his setup when he was doing a scene. He’s a DJ player.” He wasn’t a ‘kiss-and-tell’ type, but a little intrigue was needed.

The Don threw his head back and laughed. “Ballsy.” He smirked and tipped an imaginary glass at Rory.

“And you?” Rory very deliberately slanted his eyes over to Katrina Caliente who had just finished pocketing what looked like a wad of money, her mouth pressed together in displeasure.

“Ah.” His own mouth thinned for a second and he tipped the imaginary glass again. “Touché. I’m Don Lothario.”

“Rory.” They shook hands. Don’s hand was very warm in his like he had been holding the sun the whole time.

“Well, Rory, good luck,” said Don. Katrina was already stomping down the stairs without a second glance in their direction.

“Why?” Rory called after his back.

Don turned and this time, he did smile. “I know what someone on the prowl looks like.” And with one more glass tip (strange things come in threes), he left.

“Duuuuude.” Either Gavin had been pounding the drinks back or he was a massive lightweight. “I saw that.” He thrusted a glass into Rory’s hands, the drink sloshing on him. “Chug that. You need to catch up.”

“What’s Huntington doing?” Rory asked as he licked the back of his hands and between his fingers, chasing the taste of Ridgeport.

Gavin was staring. “What?”

“Huntington.” Who was swaying to a table of women (including Annette). “Oh, he shouldn’t do that. That other lady has a crush the size of a canyon on her.”

“Rory, dude. Do you have, like, special powers or something?” Rory gulped down half his drink. “Can you, like, see all our Plumbobs? Because that would be totally siiiiick -”

And then Annette (who was jacked as all hell from being a _fucking astronaut_ ) picked Huntington up by his white leather jacket and practically _bowled_ with him, sending him flying all the way to the balcony where he skidded to a halt. Someone dropped some ash on him from their cigarette and then it was all downhill from there.

“Time to go!” Mitchell called over the sounds of other sims. While not nearly as sober as Rory, he was in much better shape than Gavin and Huntington put together. If anyone decided to put Huntington back together, that is.

Someone had decided to crank the music up inside and it was whipping the crowd into a frenzy as one of the women with Annette had to put her in a bear hug to stop her from turning Huntington into a leather jacket of his own. Which. Very charitable of her.

Somehow, all four of them made it out of the building. Well, everyone except Huntington walked out; he was the only one who actually had to make it.

He remained stumbling about. Whether it was because the juice at the bar or being bounced around like a toy, Rory was unsure. But Huntington insisted on retaining some dignity, snapping whenever one of the others tried to right him from a particularly bad tottering spell.

“Don’t touch me, motherfucker,” he snarled. At Michell who helped him up. At Gavin who guided him out of traffic. At Rory who stopped him from walking into a light pole. And then the light pole when he walked into it the second time around.

“Is this normal?” he asked Michell in hushed tones as Gavin, Huntington, and the light pole had a heated argument over who ran into who now, _hmm?_

“Yup. He’ll just run himself down. I haven’t seen him get this drunk in a while though.”

Rory was still holding the glass of Ridgeport. He finished it and then set it on one of the outside ornaments flanking the building entrance the third pass around the block.

Huntington eventually stopped in front of a building that they passed several times and groaned, “Oh, _finally._ ”

“Bro, it’s like you’re a drunk, rich dog,” Gavin said after him as Huntington completely bypassed some benches to the building with the same weird stucco design as half the neighborhood in Oasis Springs. “Your drunk dog mind just goes back to the last time you were drunk and follows this stupid path all the way back here and then you pass out ass up at the front.”

Huntington did not catch most of Gavin’s words because he had collapsed onto his front in a section of flowers in front of the building.

“Wow,” Rory remarked as he followed the other two up to the entrance, “he really did pass out ass up.”

Mitchell was shaking his head. “It’s always the Rattlesnake Juice. No matter what. We always end up at the Rattlesnake Juice. It’s like he’s pulled here every time he’s drunk.”

The sign had a cactus with sunglasses brandishing a glass of juice.

“You guys wanna grab him and go home?”

“We will.”

“After this drink.” Gavin swung the door open. “Honey, I’m home!”

There was a sports game playing on the television on the wall and Rory had more than one Ridgeport this time. Overall, a vast improvement from the last place, in Rory’s humble opinion.

(“Is he okay out there?”

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. We can see him through the window from here.”

“Won’t anyone, I dunno, hurt him?”

“Oh, no. He’s asleep.”)

The time went by mindlessly. Mitchell was listing to the side from his seat. Huntington hadn’t moved. Every other customer plus the bartender was engrossed in the television. Rory was almost sure it was from a game last week.

Rory fidgeted. He played with the bowl of juice cashews. He bounced his leg and drummed his fingers. His rings clacked against the wood making some of the patrons glare at him. Rory didn’t care. He couldn’t stop.

Gavin’s fingers curled over his. “You okay, Rory?”

An idea was forming in his head. “Yeah. I’m just a little amped from the fight.”

With a squeeze and a knowing nod, Gavin let go, but not before rubbing his thumb on the back of Rory’s hand, right on a vein. Rory wasn’t sure Gavin noticed or not.

He sat still, watching Gavin watching the game in the edge of his vision. He could see the slow rotation of his Plumbob in the window reflection, right where Huntington was still passed the fuck out.

As he watched, his Plumbob went from yellow to green. He bared his teeth and threw back the rest of his drink. Then, he turned to Gavin beside him.

“Hey,” he told him. “I wanna show you something.”

Rory secluded them at the back of the Rattlesnake Juice on the patio right against the side door.

“Is this like a bro thing?” Gavin gasped out.

Rory pressed forward to hear Gavin’s voice break and then pulled off with a slurp. “Sure, if you want it to. It can be a bro job -” he got Gavin halfway to his throat and then pulled off again, “or a bro-out -” halfway and then off, “or a bro- _in_ -”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Ah, fuck!”

Rory rubbed the slick head with two fingers and licked down to the base.

“We’re just two drunk dudes -”

“I actually sobered up after we got here and you aren’t drunk-”

“- looking for fun and physical enjoyment.”

He licked one wet stripe up that sent goosebumps up Gavin’s thighs. Rory had felt them and he took great satisfaction in it.

Gavin let a stream of words fly that Rory didn’t hear. He had taken Gavin’s hands and pressed them to his head because Gavin was acting like he didn’t know where to put them (and he was a little sore in the hair follicles from earlier that evening to be honest). But Gavin wasn’t using them to fuck into his mouth. He was taking his time in shallow, careful thrusts that were kind of driving Rory to recklessness. He was stopping too often and asking too many questions of how Rory was feeling, too much, too hard, too fast.

Fine.

Rory pushed Gavin’s (ugly) dress shirt up and his pants down. Then he dug his fingers into the meat of Gavin’s ass and got to work.

The only time he stopped to pull off again (earning him a truly heartfelt moan of loss) was to stuff the front of Gavin’s shirt into Gavin’s mouth because it was getting in the way and because he was being _way too loud_ for getting blown at the back of a bar. All of Oasis Springs would find out before Gavin got to finish.

Now any sounds went through clenched teeth which got deeper and longer the more Rory worked Gavin to finishing. It was only at the end that Rory managed to coax Gavin’s hips into any semblance of rhyme, getting him to unravel down his throat as Rory pressed forward one last time, nose rubbing at Gavin’s stomach and swallowing in spasms. He could feel Gavin curling down over him, letting out a silent yell in a single drawn out wheeze.

For someone so loud during the entire process, it was a bit anticlimactic.

“Don’t talk to me, dude,” Gavin mumbled into the wall.

Rory rubbed his shoulders where Gavin’s fingernails had cut into the skin a little. His throat was an absolute disaster, voice raspy and weak. He also got a bit of come up his nose. He had ended up laughing at Gavin’s wheezing and now he was trying to find a way to blow it out.

“I’ll agree to anything like this. I’ll give you anything in the next few minutes.”

 _Get rid of that tacky shirt_ , Rory texted to him. Talking was going to be painful for a while.

“Almost anything. Excuse you. My _mother_ got me this shirt.”

Rory used it to blow his nose. Gavin somehow didn’t notice.

_You look like a stretched out middle schooler with it on. Your mother obviously didn’t want you to get any with it._

“I got a _bro-job_ out of it, didn’t I?”

_Your mother obviously never met anyone like me._

“Cocky asshole. There is no one like you out there.”

Rory’s smile faded. Because he was right. There was no one like him. And that led to the possibility that there would be nobody for him either.

“Oh, fuck.” Gavin scrambled back up, tucking himself in.

Someone was stumbling towards them.

The sim in question walked into the railing of the patio, cutting him off at the chest and making him fall.

“For the last time! Don’t _touch me_ , mother _fucker._ ”

“Oh.” Gavin slid back down. “Never mind.”


	5. Rory/Mitchell Kalani

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking

“Heavy motherfucker,” Mitchell grunted as he finally relinquished his fireman carry and dumped Huntington onto the couch. “Where does he get off acting like we’re still in university?”

“He’s going to have a bitch ass time getting up for work tomorrow,” Gavin said gleefully as he and Rory untangled and Gavin flopped onto the loveseat.

Huntington had somehow woken up, stripped himself of both his pants and his jacket, and ended up double-fisting a Simsmapolitan  _ and  _ a Sea Splash before the bartender stepped in. 

“Literally was gone for five minutes,” Mitchell had grumbled when he got back from the bar bathroom and had to help Gavin, Rory, and an almost equally intoxicated other patron into getting Huntington back into his clothes. Those pants were  _ tight _ . And, now, backwards.

And then Mitchell had to carry Huntington and Rory had to half-carry, half-drag Gavin back to Casa Cacti. 

(“I’m really not that drunk,” Gavin had hissed into Rory’s ear on the way back. “I just got the jelly legs from having my soul sucked outta my dick. Thanks for that, by the way.”)

Mitchell leaned over and slapped Huntington lightly across the face, glass of water in hand. “Yo, bro. Bro! You’re all about hydration. Wake up and drink this!”

“You’re a good ‘un, Mitch,” Gavin mumbled from his fetal position on the loveseat. “Guy doesn’t deserve a bro like you.” And then he dropped off to sleep.

Rolling his eyes, Mitchell placed the glass on a coaster with what looked like an abstract face printed on it. “Gav doesn’t like water rings on the table,” he explained to Rory who shrugged. “And.” He held up another coaster which ended up not being a face at all. There were a pair of very endowed breasts on them.

“Huntington,” they said as one, Rory’s voice still shot. Mitchell politely had not commented on it the whole time.

“Gav just flips them over because a coaster is just a coaster to him. But me and Zo -”

With a pen and a bit of determined scratching, Mitchell had somehow turned the boobs into a very excited face. “Pisses him off, but that’s what he gets. Piece of work, that guy.” That last bit was muttered with some disgust and an undercurrent of fondness.

“Is he always like that? I can’t see him hanging with you bros.”

“Nah, man, nah! He’s usually cooler around other people, especially the ladies. He’s usually more puppy cute than sleazy. No idea what he was doing today. Promise you, dude, it definitely wasn’t something you did. Gavin either.” The man in question let out a loud snore. “He doesn’t usually knock out like this. Maybe he drank too much?”

Rory just grinned, perched on the armrest of the couch. “Mind if I crash here for tonight?”

“Sure, dude! Willow Creek, right? That’s a long way back.”

“Foundry Cove, yeah. Mind if I borrow something to sleep in?”

Mitchell groaned and started walking to his room. “You’re really pushing it for a bro we met today.”

“Coolest bro you know. We still on for next week’s game?” Following him in, Rory leaned against the door jam and Mitchell picked up and discarded clothes from the floor.

“For sure,” he replied distractedly, still kicking through the piles of clothes.

“Hey, Mitch? I think I know why Huntington was acting strange today.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“It’s because he knows that my biceps are bigger than his.”

Laughter bursted out of Mitchell as he dug through his drawer, equally messy and stuffed nearly full.

“And I know why Gavin fell asleep so quickly.”

A pair of briefs in one hand and wifebeater in the other, Mitchell turned back to Rory in the doorway. Was it too weird for a bro to let another bro use his underwear? Technically, they were clean, but -

“It’s because I blew him at the back of Rattlesnake Juice.” 

The wifebeater slipped from between his fingers onto the floor, the underwear just barely hooked on his other hand. Mitchell was only a little aware of how far his jaw dropped open.

“And bro.” Rory stepped all the way into the room and closed the door behind him, voice like a thousand rattlesnakes. “I heard you got a promotion.”

They ended up on the floor because Mitchell’s bed apparently squeaked. 

“I don’t want them to know we’re fucking in here,” he hissed to Rory who was a little to busy to make any more one-liners about  _ bromotions _ and going on  _ brah _ - _ liday _ but only because Mitchell’s hand was much more heavier than Gavin’s on his head. He was on his back surrounded by his mountain of clothes, Rory laid out on his stomach in the cradle of Michell’s hips, lapping at his hardening dick.

Mitchell had found a leaking bottle of lube under one of his clothes piles with pinpoint accuracy and a strip of condoms under his drawer.

(“I live with  _ Huntington _ . We practically wipe our  _ asses _ in condoms, bro.”)

Between every few pulls on Mitchell’s dick, Rory was fingering himself open hastily and sloppily, not pausing even as he panted and winced.

“Bro, Rory, slow down. You’re going to hurt -”

Rory smothered the rest of Mitchell’s words down his dick and Mitchell bit off a groan as Rory pulled off quickly to gasp into his hip. The muscles on Rory’s arm kept jumping along with the ones on his neck and chest. Giving into temptation, Mitchell laid a hand against his throat just to feel the movements and Rory gasped again. He had a glassy, frantic look in his eyes. Mitchell didn’t know where it came from, but his dick apparently appreciated it anyway because it let out a small bubble of precome just as Rory was leaning back down. He laughed and Mitchell almost felt the rough rasp of it on his skin.

Before long, Rory was tearing open a condom and Mitchell’s stomach swooped low. 

“Ready?”

He nodded and gritted his teeth as Rory rolled down the condom. It was tight. Rory was  _ tighter _ . And furnace-hot. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered involuntarily as Rory finally seated himself, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “Oh,  _ fuck. _ ”

His hands somehow had migrated up to Rory’s hips, feeling the slide of skin against bone as he swayed back and forth and Mitchell felt every twitch, every shift and adjustment that he made.

“Oh, fuck,” he said again and hoped he didn’t blow too quickly. “Maybe I should have jerked off before we went to the bar today.”

Rory chuckled and Mitchell clutched his hips because  _ he could feel that too _ . “If I come before you do, I’ll put in fifty simoleons in the Horny Jar.”

Okay, he could do this. A competition. Like busting through the last set in the gym. “Bring it.”

He regretted saying it because Rory apparently had a competitive streak too. He squared feet and hands firmly on Mitchell’s bedroom floor and began working his hips.

Chills and hot flashes ran through his body. Mitchell grabbed the edge of his comforter and dragged it over his face, muffling his moans into his clothed fist as his other hand hung on for dear life on Rory’s knee.

“Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ ”

His groin felt like it was on fire. The good kind. It was like all the nerves and blood had abandoned their posts to hang out in his dick. His eyes felt watery. And his breath was coming out in jags compared to Rory who was silent other than the occasion gasp.

Mitchell peeked from under the comforter to watch his dick disappear and reappear out of Rory and groaned. And then groaned louder as he slipped all the way out.

“Just giving you a break, bro,” Rory said in response. He only seemed to be a little sweaty and out of breath. “No fun if you lose two minutes from the starting line.”

That brought out his competitiveness. “Like you’re one to talk shit.” Mitchell rapped his dick rudely on the curve of Rory’s ass. “You’re dripping all over me.”

“I gave you a head-start since I started  _ this afternoon  _ -”

“Don’t wanna hear your sexcapades, bro.”

“We’re having sex right now,  _ bro. _ ”

“Stop stalling and get back on it so I can win.”

Rory obliged and Mitchell had a second  _ oh-shit _ moment where he had to focus on not losing immediately. But the break was good (not that he’d ever admit it).

Mitchell planted his feet as well and met Rory thrust for thrust. His grip kept failing from all the sweat and he was getting tired out faster than he expected. (It’s what he got for not going to the gym and strengthening his core.) But it was starting to get him somewhere.

Sweat was popping up on Rory’s shoulders and temples. He was leaning back, hips working frantically like he was chasing something with this new angle. Every now and again, a groan broke through and reverberated in Mitchell.

“You like that? Still think I needed that head-start?”

But Rory was too gone to answer, mind somewhere else.

However, this new pace was like a double-edged sword as it was sending Mitchell hurtling towards his own orgasm faster than he intended. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold back even as he redoubled the last of his efforts to fuck even harder. 

“Don’t come yet,” Rory ordered suddenly.

“Easily said than done, chief,” Mitchell growled. His hipbones felt fucking bruised from the absolute pounding Rory was giving him. Or he was giving Rory? Either way, the skin was beginning to feel heated and tender which only added to the complicated cocktail of what he thought was fucking hot or not.

And then Rory grabbed his hand and curled it around Rory’s own throat and - what the hell was a guy supposed to do about that?

“Don’t come,” Rory chanted, voice diminishing with each thrust. “Don’t come, don’t come, don’t- Ah-”

Maybe it was a white-out. The kind where the brain kind of nopes out for a while because Mitchell didn’t remember coming. He did remember this show he saw on TV where the narrator said that the male honeybees’ testicles exploded after having sex for the first time. And he thought that it sounded super painful and not fucking hot at all. But that’s what it felt like. It was like his dick exploded in Rory’s damn ass. And yeah, it kinda hurt. But overall, it made him feel goopy and gave him a headache from shutting his eyes too hard. And his fist.

Whoops.

Mitchell quickly made to let go of Rory’s throat, but his hand was held there, rhythmically squeezing Mitchell’s as he was coming down. And Rory-

Kept moving.

“Fuck, dude, too much,” Mitchell hissed, trying to dislodge him.

But trying to move him was like trying to move a piece of granite. What were  _ his _ workouts like if he could keep going like this?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was starting to hurt in the bad way.

Rory was making bitten-off whimpers and Mitchell could sympathize with a bro with blue balls. 

Jacking him off was hard at the pace Rory had set, so Mitchell made a tunnel of his fingers for Rory to fuck into and started to squeeze his hand on Rory’s neck slowly, and then harder when Rory leaned into it.

His orgasm looked painful. Teeth clenched, veins bulging in his forehead, grinding down into Mitchell’s hipbones and hand. Too late, Mitchell remembered that Rory’s throat was probably all sorts of messed up even before this. He came in a flood, striping Mitchell’s (good) shirt and squeezing violently on his dick.

Finally, Mitchell was able to push Rory off. His crotch felt like it was on fire. A weird good-bad feeling. Rory was still coming and Mitchell happened to still have his hand on it, so he jacked him through it until Rory was squirming with the oversensitivity. By then, his whole hand was absolutely slick with it.

He licked a finger and made a face. “Gross.”

“Here.” Rory sat up which was Plum impressive for someone who came his brains out a few seconds ago. He grabbed the nearest shirt and began wiping himself and Mitchell’s hand.

“Dude! That was clean! And the second shirt that you ruined!”

“Third,” Rory said cheerfully. “My bad. Thought it was Huntington’s.”

“Bro, hurtful. And don’t say his name in my afterglow. He’ll show up like a reverse Santa Claus and demand shit from us.”

Mitchell peeled off the condom and Rory helped tie it up. The thing was inhumanely slippery. They tossed it, but not before Rory swung it around like a whip and made Mitchell laugh himself into a second headache.

Then they slept.

And woke up to loud screeching.

_ “Where’s my jacket? And why is my pants backwards?” _

“Shut the  _ fuck  _ up, Huntington! It’s too  _ damn  _ early for this.”

“Forgot that Huntington doesn’t get hangovers,” Mitchell mumbled into his pillow. 

“Where did this stain come from?”

“Looks like a jizz stain. Did you give yourself a handie last night and fall asleep?”

_ “Huntington!” _ came three different voices. Rory kneed Mitchell’s back in surprise.  _ “Jar!” _


	6. An Interlude: Katrina Caliente’s realization

“Fuck,” Katrina hissed. She buried the pregnancy test deep into her work bathroom trash can and wondered if she could angle for that promotion quicker.


	7. Don Lothario/Dina Caliente

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Public Sex, Vaginal Sex

Her sister used to do this to her. She never thought their roles would have reversed in this way.

“Let me repeat what I said. No. Wanna hear it in Simlish? _Neeshga_. _Renato_.”

Dina let go of Nina’s blanket who angrily pulled it back in place over her head.

“Come on, Nee. It’s easier to have a partner. You can start by just spotting me. And pointing out my mistakes.”

Nina was quiet, rolling up in a tighter ball under the covers.

“Nee?” It was childish to use the nickname, but in the past it had worked. But that was a long time ago.

“Not today, Dee,” came the reply, all tucked up and muffled through the layers. “Maybe some other time.”

She had a knack of bringing Dina out in the early mornings when their parents were still asleep with whining and jumping and straight up threatening. Sunrises used to be a common sight and the light of it on Nina’s hair as it swung back and forth with the rhythm of her stride was what Dina kept time to with each painful step.

Nina used to be able to hold whole conversations during their jogs while Dina barely had the breath to keep upright. Now she complained if the escalator was broken and they had to plod up the steps.

Each “some other time” was another way of saying never. Never, ever again. Dina just wished they both had the courage to say something about it.

Feeling less motivated, Dina took one last sip of water, tightened her shoelaces, and stepped out.

Right into Don Lothario’s eyesight.

He also looked dressed to workout and Dina defiantly squashed down the kneejerk self-consciousness that overtook her for a second, the spectre of a younger self.

“Good morning,” he started, but Dina brushed past him, not bothering to even stretch.

Don Lothario had been spending the last few nights (and some days) at their house and although not all nights were spent in the _throes of passion_ with Katrina, it was enough to drive both Dina and Nina to spend a good chunk of the time outside. Which led Dina into wanting to run again, people watching everyone in their neighborhood.

Nina just wanted to drink and watch shirtless sims.

The heat was a physical force on her skin, pressing and prickling her at all angles. Its presence was nearly suffocating at this time of the day.

And so were the sounds of footsteps behind her.

Don Lothario came bounding in her peripherals and Dina waited for him to pass her. Instead, he kept in step with her, their footfalls keeping time. Left, right, left, right.

Anger surged up unexpectedly and she used it to push forward, disrupting the beat. But a second later, he was back and there they were. Left, right, left, right.

They passed the entrance to the neighborhood towards Desert Bloom Park and he was still there and by then, Dina could feel herself starting to slow down. She hadn’t done this for a while now. And still he kept to her pace.

Left, right, left, right.

They left Desert Bloom Park behind. Dina could feel the air sawing through her lungs. Her hair was sticking to her face and neck. Her feet were hot and her hands felt tight.

She made a sharp right, off the normal running track that joggers liked to take around the park, towards the Mirage.

Left, right, left-

“You okay?”

Her sudden stop must have taken by surprise because he skidded pretty hard on sandstone and wheeled back. Asshole was still lightly jogging in place.

“What the fuck is your problem?” she snapped in between breaths.

“What do you mean?” Still jogging.

“Why are you _following me?_ ”

“I’m not. This is my normal path.”

“Bullshit.” She would have spat if her mouth wasn’t so _dry._ “You were running with me. Why? You making fun of me?”

That got him to stop. “What? No! Look.” He took off his douchey sunglasses and squinted at her. She squinted back. “This is my usual path. I’m going to the gym to work out.” He gestured at the Mirage Canyon, Burners & Builders’ sign looking hazy in the heat. Or maybe she was having a stroke.

“Going to get a drink more likely.”

That got him to drop his good-boy attitude. The sunglasses went back on. “Better go or I’ll catch whatever crawled up your ass this morning.” He started to jog away and then spun around. “And seriously? High tops? You’re going to get shin splints.”

They were the only ones she had. Her previous running shoes were probably ash and burnt rubber in some landfill far away.

“At least I’m not wearing a fucking washcloth on my head. Do you scrub your dick with it too?”

“It’s a _bandana_. To prevent sunburns on the scalp. Like you’re going to get. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing. Wear a hat.”

“You wear a hat,” she yelled to his retreating back. Dina was right about him making fun of her. He was fast. He had no reason to stay with her.

She turned and flat out sprinted back to the house. By then, Nina was up and lounging in her athleisure wear, fully supported workout bra and wicking shorts. She even got her running shoes on.

Dina stumbled up through the gate and to the outdoor chair, collapsing on the chair which, thankfully, wasn’t heated up too much from the sun.

“Good run?” Nina asked lazily, already back to watching a band of sims jogging with purpose.

She wanted a cold bath. Her shins were already starting to ache. She poured herself a glass of whatever was sweating on the table and gulped it down.

Tang and Zing. True to its name, it burned all the way down her already sore throat.

She poured herself a second glass and stewed, glaring angrily down at her shoes, caked an off-rust color from the desert dust.

Nina snorted. “Thought so.”

The next time, Dina had the idea to wake up an hour early.

Unfortunately, Don Lothario seemed to have had the same idea as well.

“Nice shoes,” he sneered as he caught up to her.

They were Nina’s. Luckily, they were pretty much the same shoe size.

There were holes in mine, she wanted to tell him. Mine are filled with dust. The ones I used to have were not pink. They were orange and well used and pretty expensive compared to my other shoes. They all burned down the same though.

But she could only gasp out, “Dick rag,” the entire run to Mirage Canyon.

And it happened the next time. And the next and next. Try as she might, Dina could not help falling into the human movement of having and keeping a routine. With slight variations.

Dina let him come inside the house for some water before they went out. Don got them matching hats. Dina switched their sunglasses. Don politely asked her to put some sunscreen for that spot on his right shoulderblade. And each step became their new normal.

“This is a trap,” Nina told her.

They were out at the Rattlesnake Juice bar. Katrina was hired to do a gig at the Solar Flare again and Don had gone to watch. Both sisters had silently agreed to not be around them during that time because the first (and last) outing they had all gone on together, Katrina and Don flirted outrageously with each other and then had obnoxious sex at the house.

So Nina and Dina would probably be planted right where they were until closing: far left corner with the older than old armchairs shoved close to one another, coyly angled so they could see the rest of the room in case anyone approached them.

Dina burped in her sister’s face, feeling more relaxed than she could remember. Nina burped back.

“I thought this was to celebrate my promotion.” Mixologist wasn’t exactly what she was aiming for, but her boss was insistent. Being at Make-a-Dish meant that everyone learned a little bit of everything along the way. And to be fair, it wasn’t unlike what she did as a caterer anyway. What was flipping bottles compared to flipping knives anyway? Her boss had thrown everything at her. Even a kitchen sink. An honest to Plumbob kitchen sink.

“Celebration. Work study. Heart-to-heart talk.” Dina nodded along to Nina’s words, eyes straying to the bartender. He looked young. Unsteady. She could probably take him and tend the bar herself.

Nina snapped her fingers in Dina’s face. “No,” she said ominously. “Whatever you’re thinking, that’s just the juice speaking to you. Focus.”

Dina swatted her away and sat back. For a weekday, the Rattlesnake was decently filled. There was even a commotion near the bathrooms where a bunch of gym rat types (and she could spot them from a mile away now) were running back and forth from the men’s bathrooms to a guy passed out on the floor. He was half-clothed and drenched due to his friends dumping water on him with their cupped hands. The other patrons didn’t even blink.

“Like I said before. Trap. He’s luring you into a false sense of security.”

“For what?” The guy still wasn’t waking up. “Think he’s dead? Why?”

“He’s awake. He just likes the attention. Because that’s The Don we’re talking about.”

“That name makes him sound like he’s some super important mob figure. He really is not. He’s paranoid about going bald early.”

“False. Sense. Of security. He’s using his _alluring_ charms. See? He’s getting up now.”

The man flailed. “Don’t _touch_ me mother _fucker._ ”

“This is the third time I’ve seen him like this. He’s never actually _that_ drunk. I’ve been watching him at the bar.”

Who were they talking about? Don? Just the other day, he had stubbed his toe on the way to the gym and had whined about it the whole run there. And then conned her into going inside with him.

Alluring? Him?

By the time the Rattlesnake was empty, Nina was swaying, but Dina felt surprisingly clearheaded. She thought.

“I’m going to be so tired tomorrow,” she groaned.

They had sprung for a taxi because Nina and Dina were in high heels and Dina just got a promotion, damn it. Anyway, sometime between the jocks getting kicked out and last call, Dina had somehow stolen someone’s white leather jacket and Nina had somehow bullied her to give it to Nina who had it draped across her shoulders like a hunting prize.

“So?”

“I’m going running tomorrow.”

“Just skip.”

“No.” She rested her head against the glass. “I’ve got a great idea. I’ll run right now. Because I’m not tired now. And I can run and run and run.”

“No.” Nina tried to grab her shoulder, missed, and nearly poked her eye. “Running is for squares and hoes.”

“You’re not the fucking boss of me.”

“You’re too drunk.”

“ _You’re_ the drunk one. You’re just scared that you won’t be able to catch up with me now.”

The taxi pulled up to their house and they stumbled out, shoes in hand. Dina waited until the taxi pulled away and Nina was at the gates. Then she took off.

“Dee! Dee, come back!”

Her feet flew across the ground. Why didn’t everyone run with no shoes? It felt fantastic. Each step felt like the earth was being pulled away from under her. The air felt surprisingly dry for a night in Oasis Springs.

She looked over one shoulder, expecting to see Nina. And then she looked over the other shoulder, expecting Don.

No one. She was alone. Dina had never ran alone before. There was no one to keep up with her and no one for her to keep up with.

Suddenly, Dina felt foolish. Her feet were actually smarting and she was still holding her heels. She hobbled the last stretch to Desert Bloom Park and instinctively headed to the playground. What a time to sober up.

The park was empty. There was no one to see Dina climb up the monkey bars to sit on the rungs like she and Nina and their friends did in the past, miles away and years ago.

Here, she could sit and stare up at the stars and admit to herself that Nina was right in some sense. While he wasn’t _alluring_ or lulling her into a _false_ sense of security, there was definitely a ploy. Don Lothario liked being liked. It was part of his charm, to be both the center of attention and make _you_ feel like the center of his attention. Life was easier for those who are liked. And Don, over the years of perfecting it, was very good at getting people to like him.

Now, there was a second part to all this.

“Is that a bird up there? A cat?”

Dina peered into the darkness. She could make out a vague figure but knew the voice well enough.

“What are you doing here?” Dina asked grumpily as Don Lothario peeled away from the shadows and into the park lights. He was wearing jeans and nothing else.

“Looking for a runaway. Have you seen her? Wearing this blue dress-” His eyes scanned over and Dina reminded herself not to stiffen up like some shy teenager “-hair up, green earrings.”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Dina said coolly. “Maybe check the mineshaft over there. Far away.”

“Ouch, sweetness.” Don Lothario laid a dramatic hand on his (broad) chest. “I’m wounded.”

“What are you doing?” Dina demanded, already tired of it all. “Were you following me?”

“No.” Don let his hand drop and hang by his side. “We heard a noise. Katrina made me go and check it out. Nina was screeching like a banshee outside the door.”

Oh, yeah. Dina had the house key.

“She said that you guys got in a fight and that you ran away.”

“What? No? There was no fight. No fight.”

“So you just _decided_ to go for a run? Without the proper gear?”

“Yes,” she snapped and curled her feet up defensively. “You’re not exactly prepared either.”

“Didn’t have the time. Had to go find a runaway before her sister woke up the neighborhood.”

Dina snorted. “Where’s the house fire, son?” she quipped and nearly bit her tongue in half from snapping her mouth shut.

“Nowhere right now. Can you come down?”

“No.” Her feet still hurt and her pride was a little tender from the thought of getting another cab or even getting him to carry her home. He could probably do it to and not break a sweat. She flushed at the thought and was grateful for the darkness.

“Can I come up there then?”

“I don’t care.” And then she watched it bit sourly as Don hoisted himself up by the arms and deposited himself neatly besides her. “Show-off.”

“Believe me, only for you Caliente ladies,” he said with a saucy wink and Dina made herself look away.

They stayed quiet together for a surprisingly long time. Every now and then, Don grumbled about how the bars were hurting his ass, but he stayed quiet (for his standards).

Dina’s eyes were starting to lose their focus from staring at the stars when Don cleared his throat.

“I really didn’t know she was your mom. I’m sorry.”

Was it the night? Their bare feet? Did the darkness leech the apology out of him?

“You’re still fucking her,” Dina pointed out dryly.

Don winced. “Does she know -?” He gestured very elaborately, but she got the main gist of it.

“That we used to hang out and get drunk sometimes? Not really, no. She’s not our mom anyway.” She laughed at his double-take.

“You sure?” She raised an eyebrow at his question. “I mean. Your guys look really -”

“There’s some shared blood. More like a distant aunt or cousin. It was just easier to refer to her as our mom when we moved here.”

“Easier why?”

“Katrina didn’t have to answer any questions on why she didn’t have any kids of her own. And our parents had died in a fire a while back.”

That day, Nina had failed to convince her to go for a run. It was a warm day with a cool breeze. The leaves were changing colors. The image of Nina’s hair against the trees that lined their neighborhood was pressed very firmly in her mind. It was a perfect day for a run, Nina had argued and Dina, tired from it all, had shot back that it was a perfect day to relax as well.

Nina had left and Dina had announced her intentions to nap to her parents. But the breeze was too inviting. And Dina felt guilty for not going with her sister. She went laid out in the hammock in the backyard and tried to do homework which knocked her right out.

And when she woke up, their house was just a frame with flames licking up, up, up.

Something to do with the wiring. Or the oven. Or the outdated dryer? Or maybe a mixture, a chain reaction of bad luck and coincidence because the house went up very quickly. When Nina came back, she was missing her sister and her parents. When the firemen found her in the hammock, she had dug her nails into Dina’s skin and refused to let go.

Dina knew that Nina blamed herself for leaving. And Nina knew that Dina blamed herself for not being awake.

But here’s the kicker. The bodies of Flamenco and Nighat Caliente were found on the second floor and not on the first floor where they slept and watched television. They were healthy in both body and mind so there was no reason to stay in a burning house. Not unless they were looking for something or someone.

She had spent nights afterwards, trying to think back. DId she really sleep so deeply that she couldn’t hear her parents call for her? If she slept the nights following that day, would she hear them again against a crackling backdrop?

If she had gone running like usual or slept in her bed like usual, no doubt, her parents would still be alive. Instead, they had died searching. If there was an afterlife, were they still searching there as well?

For twins, Dina and Nina were truly opposites. How else could any explain their metamorphosis. Shedding themselves to fit into someone else that could have made a difference. Did she try to become her sister? Or just her own antithesis? What was reflected in their mirrors at night alone with no light?

By the time the funeral was all said and done. By the time Dina and Nina had moved from Barnacle Bay to another city and another and then all the way to Oasis Springs to live with an estranged relative, it became less about escaping and more about scraping something together. And then watching that blow away.

“I’m sorry,” Don said haltingly and Dina had to wonder _for what?_

For what she lost? For what he said? For the memories that she carried like a second heartbeat, like a fire in a home?

“It’s fine,” she said to the stars. By the time those words reach them, it would be.

Don swung a foot back and forth and all around them, the desert was alive with noise.

“I lost my parents a few years ago,” he told her. It was said very nonchalantly with not a trace of feeling, but she knew better than most about how to divide the helpless feeling from yourself and lock it in a box. “It was so fast. My dad died in his sleep and my mom just stopped trying and died a week later. She didn’t even wait for me to come back home from another city. She just left.”

“Oh, Don,” she began but stopped. He was staring straight ahead with a grim set to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said stiltedly. From what she remembered, Nicolo and Adriana Lothario were one of those fairytale couples who were very much in love with each other with no other known family. Don must have been very alone.

“Wanna have sad sex in the bathrooms?” he asked and Dina knew him well enough that he was about three quarters joking.

“Don’t make this a rom-com by double timing my aunt with me,” she told him, three quarters serious.

“Your aunt and I aren’t in any relationship. She was clear about that.” Dina was careful not to let her face change. “And I wear too much eyeliner to star in a Landgraab rom-com. I’m too pretty.”

“You keep talking shit and they’ll shut your electricity off.”

“Any chance I can live with you fine Caliente ladies?”

“Sure. But you’ll have to fight the raccoon for your spot in line for the garbage can.”

“Does this mean I’m back in your good graces?”

“What good graces?” Dina shot back, but her heart was in her throat, her mouth dry.

The second part of Don _liking_ being liked was that Dina _liked_ liking him. She had missed the easy give and take of in a conversation with someone who was, frankly, very hot and slightly charming.

She missed Michael and wasn’t that for a last, sobering thought to wrap up the night.

“I’m ready to go down now,” she said, feeling like a child. “I’m ready to go home.”

Don helped her down, his (big) hands around her waist. He did not help her home.

“I am dead serious,” he told her from behind the bar. No one ever locked the indoor lounge anymore, so it was Don’s natural instinct to go hunting for water to wash off their feet and bandages to wrap them. “We’re both lucky that we didn’t cut up our feet like this.” Dina could see down onto the top of his head from her seat on a barstool. His hair wasn’t gelled up in its usual fauxhawk, and it was gently curling around his temples from sweat. His boyish charm would probably get him more attention than whatever sauve persona he put on around others.

She would rather drown herself in the park pond than tell him that though.

After a few more minutes of clinking from pushing through juice bottles, Don sat back in frustration, running his fingers through his hair.

“You sure people keep bandages back here?”

“Positive,” replied Dina, half-imagining just reaching down to pat his hair down in place. She resisted. “My work sent me training all over Oasis Springs and they always keep them under the bar in case the mixologists hurt themselves. Let me try,” she added over his scornful, “ _mixologists_ ”.

Her feet were still wet enough to leave little puddles on the laminated wood flooring as she walked around and gently nudged him aside with her toes. He goodnaturedly squeezed her ankle in reply and she had to keep walking around him and pretend that it didn’t affect her at all.

Sometime during his hunt, she had taken her hair down. It felt odd and frumpy when she shook it out, but at that point, Don had seen her sitting on the monkey bars with desert dust on her feet, calves, and the hem of her dress. Her teenage self-consciousness had died a very sudden, fiery death. She shook her hair back to peer through the bottles and equipment. There.

“Where were you looking at? It’s right here. Look, in the packaging and everything.” Dina wiggled back, hair in her face again.

She turned to Don who took it with a “Didn’t look for it on that side yet, Miss High Tops” and then, cool as can be, brushed her hair behind her ear.

 _Don’t blush_ , she commanded herself as he ripped through the packaging and stood up to toss it on top of the bar, giving the full view of his happy trail disappearing into the edge of his beat-up jeans. _Do. Not. Blush._

He came back, picking at the edge of the roll. “Give me your foot for a second?”

If someone had told her a few months ago that she and Don Lothario would be barefoot behind a bar in the dead of night, she would have waited for the punchline.

“Too tight?”

She shook her head. “Isn’t that too much? It feels like a fucking cast. I’m going to have to carve it off.”

“Better too much than too little.” And then without warning, he bent down and cut the tape with his teeth. She felt the hot air on her skin for just the barest of seconds, but the feeling shot straight up to her clit.

Fucking damn it.

“I never told you,” Don said as he started on her other foot. Dina made the appropriate curious noise while trying to not accidentally kick him in the chest. It was like she was back in high school all over again and downing free drinks that were probably watered down by the bartender. The feeling like she was getting away with something forbidden was still there even if all the cheers and music was not.

“You,” he looked up from his work, “cut your hair.”

She couldn’t help it. Dina snorted. Her initial reaction was biting sarcasm, but it didn’t feel right when he had come to take her back home, listened to her, and then wrapped her foot. Even if she didn’t ask.

“Well, it is hot out here.” She touched the ends of her bob. It was actually getting longer. She planned to beg Katrina to cut it again. “Although it’s a bitch to lay flat in the mornings.”

Don hummed. “It looks nice,” he said. Dina bit back another snort. Her hair was about Nina’s length when Don last saw her. She supposed the two of them cut a striking figure together in the “night life”. Just a bunch of teenagers at the Shake-a-Bitch talking to loudly and freely.

It was, well, nice. They couldn’t control a lot in their lives, but that part of it was theirs.

He ripped the tape with his teeth again and Dina managed to stop the first twitch but not the second when he slid two very warm fingers over it all, feeling the thickness.

“Too tight?” he asked again, very quiet.

“No.” She wanted to tack something on the end of it to cut through the rising tension, but she could not think of anything, just watched him briskly and less carefully wrap his own feet.

“All right.” He stood up and offered his hand and as he pulled her up, she noted two things. One was: fuck, he’s strong and two was: maybe she stood up too fast. A combination of that and her taped feet sliding on the cheap plastic wood had her standing very close to Don.

And she didn’t know why she did it. Actually, lie. Dina did it because she was lonely and horny and Don was right. He was very pretty.

Dina kissed him right in the corner of his mouth, just a touch. She did not have to be close to hear his sharp intake of breath or the quiet shuddering sigh when she placed another one, still off center.

When Dina leaned back, he was staring at her. “I feel like I’m in high school.”

“What, that bad?”

“No! It’s just that -” He pressed a hand to his mouth and Dina remembered back to Nina’s words. Don was either very good or very bad at this whole seduction thing and she couldn’t decide which was worse. Dina had always been a sucker for sims with a secret romantic side. But she wasn’t looking for romance.

“You good with having sex here?”

Don blinked and blinked again. “What?”

Dina took a step back and held a hand out to stop Don from following. He didn’t seem aware he was doing it. Curling his fingers around her pulse point seemed automatic to him. As was running his thumb over the sensitive skin of her wrist.

She clenched the hand against his chest into a fist. “Okay, three things. First. You and Katrina -”

“We agreed that we can see other people while we’re together,” Don said instantly.

“Let me finish.” Don snapped his mouth shut. His eyes looked very dark and liquid. “If we sleep together, are you and Katrina gonna be weird about it?”

Don shifted on one foot and then another. “She doesn’t have to know if you don’t want her to.”

“Maybe that’s best.” It took a good moment to remember her next point. “Okay, second. Do you want to do this? With me?”

If possible, Don’s eyes got darker. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “I’ve - Ever since - Yeah.”

“All right.” Dina shifted her own weight around, trying not to let on that she was squeezing her thighs together. “Okay. Three. Do you have a condom on you?”

That seemed to snap Don out of it. “Now?”

“Yeah? No glove, no love. Thought you’d be all about safe sex.”

“But here? In the park?” Don gestured at all the floor to ceiling windows around them that screamed of Landgraab influence. Gross. “Can’t we go home? Use a bed?”

“Katrina is cool with people hearing her. I’m not. I’m good here.”

Don seemed to be fighting with his words, but after some intense eyebrow twitches, he deflated. “You’re kinkier than I thought, High Tops.”

“High Heels more like.” She gave up all pretenses and began going through his pants pockets, searching. Twice she brushed against his front and Don flinched.

“Hey, I’m getting there.”

“I’m looking for your magical stash.”

“They’re back at the house. _Fuuuck._ Hey, what’s the chance that _mixologists_ stow any behind the bar?”

Dina tilted her head, considering.

“Really? Is this a bartender thing that I don’t know about? Is there another meaning for a ‘wet bar’?”

“Haha, Lothario.” Dina walked towards one of the bookshelves, Don magnetized to her. He seemed stuck between wanting to put his hands on her hips and hovering around her. It was kinda cute. She pretended not to notice.

If she knew anything, she knew that horny people were the same everywhere. Barnacle Bay, Pleasantview, Oasis Springs, it didn’t matter. “Feel around the top there?”

Dina pointedly did not move from her spot, making Don lean in very close behind her to get to where she was pointing at on the bookshelf. He was very careful not to touch her, but she timed it. When he found the single condom, Dina made sure to “bump” into him as she stepped back. Don practically leaped away to establish some space between them and she would have had second-guesses on if he actually did want to sleep with her until she saw his face, flushed and confused.

He was staring at the foil package between his fingers as if he had never seen one before, like it was bestowed onto him by the lady of the lake or whatever.

“You know what to do with that, champ?” she asked dryly when he continued to stare.

“I think I’m in the wrong career field,” he said faintly and how could she not kiss him with an awful line like that?

Dina had expected him to be a deep kisser, a greedy kisser. But he was slow and careful, almost… romantic? One curled hand gently under her chin after his initial astonishment and the other finally, politely on her hip. Not at all what she was looking for.

She added teeth and sucked a little meanly at his tongue and he made a noise of surprise.

“Where do you want this?” Dina mumbled into his jaw after he broke the kiss off. Was she imagining the rabbit-fast feel of his pulse under her mouth? She pressed a hand to his chest, skin on skin since he was only wearing his pants. Nope, his heartbeat was fast too.

“Well, let me see.” His voice was still even. “We got _this_ uncomfortable couch, _that_ uncomfortable couch, _those_ uncomfortable chairs, the walls, and the floor.”

“You can fuck me against the table or the fireplace too,” she pointed out just to feel that, yes, that kick in his pulse. “Be a little more creative, Lothario.”

“Shit. When you put it like that.”

In the end, it was none of the options. Don seemed to be a little put off by the fact that there were windows nearly everywhere in the lounge and chose to cloister Dina in the corner where the bar hid most of them for any possible prying eyes and the strategically arranged couch hid them from the rest.

“Prude,” she gasped, bucking into his hand, hot and delicious and _devious_ which Don snuck under her dress and inside her underwear.

“Pervert,” he grunted and nearly bent double when Dina sped her hand up in his boxers. “Okay, you gotta stop if you want me to fuck you.”

Dina considered it and let Don fish her hand out and wipe it on the knee of his jeans. Something about Don trying to rub his precome off her fingers made her chest squeeze.

“Gross.”

“These pants have been through it.”

Now that the ball was rolling, Don was less _shy_. He spun her around and pressed a kiss onto her bare shoulder and flipped her dress up over her ass in the same moment.

Dina pressed her hands on the bar and after thinking about it, let herself fall onto her elbows.

A hot finger hooked at the waistband of her underwear and stayed there as Don kissed from her shoulder up to her neck and then angled in for her mouth. And it stayed there as he carefully squeezed her right breast and then dipped into the front again.

“What’s the hold up?” Why was her voice so high? “Hurry up and get in me.”

The finger left and joined the other hand in her underwear. “You dirty talk undoes me.” Dina had a feeling that Don was laughing at her. “But let me take care of you? You might enjoy it more if you come first.”

Dina’s foot kicked up a little when he began rubbing at a _very_ good spot and he seemed to notice because his fingers never left. “Don’t think you can do it, ah, when you, ah, fuck you!”

Hands scrabbling against the wood and hooked around the lip of the bar.

For some reason, she was on her tiptoes even though she was tall enough. Her legs were shaking and it ran up to her fingers and she gripped even tighter.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ”

“There it is,” Don mumbled into the back of her neck and she let out a silent scream. “There you go.” And still his fingers did not stop until Dina reached back to claw at his leg.

“Get in me.” She ripped down her underwear and punched his hip. “Get the fuck in me _right fucking now_ , you piece of fucking shit.”

“What the hell,” Don said blankly. But Dina could hear him undoing his pants and opening the condom.

He ran his fingers over her from the back of her neck to her clit and Dina reached back to get a good death grip on his jeans hanging off him. He was not going to make her wait any more for this.

The first touch made her snarl with frustration and the second turned into a slow push in.

“Okay?” Don would not stop nosing at her back. Dina’s breath whooshed out. “Can I put the rest in?”

 _The rest of what_ , she thought dizzily but nodded and gasped one breath in as Don slid all the way until she felt his hips press against her.

“Oh, what the fuck?” she squeaked out.

“You okay?” Was he sniffing her? “I’m going to touch you.”

Dina clutched her hair and pushed back as a test. His grip on her tightened and he began grinding against her.

“You _are_ touching me.” Her voice still didn’t sound normal. In response, he began playing with her clit again, the other hand drifting up to keep her breast company. Good thing her dress was made from a stretchy material.

Carefully, _carefully_ , Dina began subtly rocking back and forth. It wasn’t a pain, but the sensation of being on the edge of _too much_. It had been a long time after all. Dina could feel it up to her head, kind of like when Nina accidentally brained her with an elbow when she tried to get Dina out of bed. It was the feeling similar to getting blunt force trauma, but before all the pain. Impact, shock, and realization all in one. It wasn’t great. But when his fingers were in the action, it wasn’t that bad either.

And when Don started to move, it was actually pretty fantastic.

“Ah, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered in time with his thrusts.

Don planted a hand beside her on the bar. “Can’t tell at all if I’m doing anything right with you.” He was very slowly picking up some speed. The bottles were starting to clink together. “But I have a feeling you’d just hit me if I did anything wrong.” Dina stamped one foot and yelped as something started to spark in her. “Or anything right. Shit, Dina.”

Her hand joined his between her legs and he let her bully his hand away.

She was starting to meet him thrust for thrust in earnest. Dina only realized that she was grinding her forehead into the bar surface when Don carefully slid a hand under her head as a sort of buffer, palm slick, and cupped it against her face.

“Harder,” she heard herself say and listened to him swear. He removed his other hand from under her dress to press against her stomach as leverage and actually started to fuck her.

Her bottles were really starting to rattle along now along with her bones, hair constantly in her face even as she shoved it back continuously.

And still, he did not take away his hand on her face.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said into her neck. “Come on.”

Dina screwed her face down into the meat of Don Lothario’s palm, her own grinding against her sex.

Her entire body tried to snap shut on her, one knee banging painfully into the bar. A wail slipped between her teeth. Behind her, she could feel Don jolt and still, grinding into her once or twice.

“Shit.” He sounded dazed. He ran a hand from shoulder to shoulder, grazing her neck. Dina thought she could feel his fingertips trembling. Her own fingers were achy from when she clawed at every bit of his leg she could reach near the end.

He was still cradling her forehead.

“You okay?”

Instead of answering, Dina wedged a hand between them and pushed. Don carefully drew out of her, groaning slightly and she exhaled the whole time, the feeling running down to her toes.

She was significantly wetter than when they started.

“Uh.”

When she turned around, Don was inspecting the condom hanging off his dick. He peeled it off to take a closer look and Dina was almost disgusted until she caught the look on his face.

“I think,” he said slowly, face pale. “I think the condom broke?”

“Broke.” She didn’t have the energy to turn it into a question.

Don casted around for something, dick softening and still hanging out of his pants. “Don’t suppose you keep track of expiration dates on these. Ah.” Snagging the discarded foil wrapper, he looked. And looked.

“Dina.” He held it up to her and she grabbed it, underwear around one ankle.

A pucker. A puncture. A bull’s eye carved into the foil. Without thinking, she crumpled it up. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He held up the hand that wasn’t holding the condom. “I’m clean. And I always use protection.”

“That’s not the problem!”

Why was her voice so loud all of a sudden? It was if someone had pulled a plug and all the fuzzy quiet of the night was draining away. From her ears and down, down into the rest of her until her vision was swimming and she was swimming and why did nothing ever go right?

“Dina? Dina? Hey.” He didn’t seem too inclined to try and wipe her tears away or some other bullshit with a leaking condom. The trash can was behind the bar, but Dina did not tell him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

What had happened was her parents were dead and Dina didn’t recognize her own sister anymore. She had lost her friends in the move, moved in with an aunt she didn’t know, and had sex with said aunt’s boytoy, _and_ on top of that, some dipshit of a teenager had intentionally poked a fucking hole into the condom and now she had come stains on the back of her dress.

The last person she had sex with had disappeared two months after they got married and she had almost fooled herself into thinking she was ready to move on. She so wanted to move on. She wanted to fall in love with someone sweet and funny with soft hair and warm hands. Someone who was not Don motherfucking (almost literally at this point) Lothario, her childhood crush and known sleaze.

“I’m not on the pill,” she told him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fact 1: I am writing this entire series while listening to lofi radio because I cannot do music with words (aka every "sexy playlist" I find) and I'm not sitting through fucking Mozart while I write two characters plowing each other. So if the smut tastes a little mellow and sad, that's why.
> 
> Fact 2: My Ao3 code for making an account kept expiring and I kept trying to get another one which is why I uploaded a bunch and now am doling them out.
> 
> Fact 3: I wrote most of the sex scenes half-asleep because it's less embarrassing that way. I recommend it if you want to leave a surprise for yourself in the morning when you are rereading it with the lord's light streaming into your bedroom.


	8. Rory/Summer Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: Prostitution, Sex Work, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Rory licked the rim of his cup and then started crunching down some ice. His shift at Mobwives was in ten minutes and yet he couldn’t bother even getting up from his seat.

It was still before happy hour at the Rattlesnake Juice and the regulars were slowly starting to trickle in. At this point, he didn’t know their names, but he knew their drink of choice and what kind of day they had if they were to order something stronger.

Hmm, maybe he could be a bartender…?

“Excuse me?”

A woman with tied back blonde hair had slid into the seat across from him. She had fuzzy make-up that softened the shape of her eyes (blue) and an open collared polo shirt (striped blue).

“Hi.”

“Hi.” She smiled back and flicked the end of her braid back over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m new. I’ve never done this before.”

“This?”

“Well, proposition someone.”

Straight to the point. Rory appreciated that in sims. “Let me buy you a drink and we can get to know you better?”

“I’d like that, but before you do,” the woman cleared her throat. “Can I ask? What are your rates?”

The song from the overhead radio switched over to something classical. One of the patrons booed and demanded someone to change it. The current bartender just cranked it a bit louder to drown the sim out, her bob cut making a severe visage as she concentrated on throwing and catching three bottles at once.

Rory watched it all happen and then blinked. “My what?”

The woman flushed a delicate pink. “Your rates? Someone told me that you are a. Uh. Gentleman of the evening.”

It took another few seconds to click and when it did, Rory had to press his forehead onto the sticky surface of the table from laughing.

No one he had fucked had ever given him money. And he had never gotten any payment other than a half-hearted slap on the back. Fucking was fun. Fucking was easy. It wasn’t small talk and it wasn’t networking. While all bodies were different, most were pretty much wired the same. Everyone had an opportunity to feel good and make him feel good as well. It was the easiest give-and-take he had.

When Rory finally peeled his face from the table, the woman was still there, now flushed a deeper red.

“I’m not,” he told her at the same time she feebly asked, “Aren’t you…”

“Aww, fuck,” she said eloquently. “I’m going to kick his ass for tell me.”

Rory took a split second to consider it before the words fell out of his mouth. “I could be though. How much were you willing to pay?”

She told him. He almost inhaled some ice.

“Too low?”

Oh, on the contrary. That was more than what he would have gotten at Mobwives any day of the week.

Someone in Rory’s life had told him never to mix business and pleasure together. But Rory was getting tired of eating cereal over his kitchen sink for the fifth meal in a row. And he had poor boundaries.

So he said to the lady who thought she had to _buy_ his time to have sex with her, “I can swing that.” The mixture of relief and embarrassment across her face came and went and then suddenly, she was all business.

“Okay, good.”

Even though Rory offered one more time to get her another drink, she politely refused and left to grab her things.

Rory allowed himself to stare at her butt through her skirt (blue, what a surprise) and up to her fishtail braid. She was chatting with two other people at another table. One of the sims, a lady with dark hair in pigtails said something and Fishtail laughed. The other sim was a man who was glaring daggers at Rory. He let him wave at the man which only made him glare harder if possible.

“Your friend is going to pass out,” he said to Fishtail who took his extended arm with a giggle.

“Oh, Travis?” She glanced over at the guy’s brick-red face and then back to Rory. “Yeah, he’s weirdly protective over us. We grew up together and I bet he thinks he’s the older brother even though he’s younger than me.”

His look, Rory thought, had nothing to do with familial feelings. But he let that go.

“I’m Rory,” he said instead.

The woman clapped a hand over her forehead. “I’m doing this wrong, aren’t I?”

Across the street and down. Rory knew exactly where they were going.

“No, no, you’re fine. Learning experience and all. Don’t sweat telling me your name if you don’t want to. Or you can make one up.”

“It’s. Don’t laugh. I’m Summer Holiday.”

Rory kept his eyes fixed ahead.

“You’re smiling.”

“What? It’s a nice night. Beautiful sunset. Pretty lady talking to me. It’s a good time.”

“It’s not any better than what my parents were going to call me.”

“Let me guess. Happy.”

Summer hauled off and hit him and Rory mocked a wince even as he swept the door open to the Sandside Hotel.

“I hate how right you are. They wanted to name me Mary.”

Stale cigarette smells and chlorine from the indoor pool. The sound of music thumping somewhere within the building. Rory and Summer chatted all the way to the room on the second floor. Her job. His ex-job. Their shared love for night runs. By the time they keyed themselves in and Rory sat down on the bed, Summer was smiling and giggling, none of the tension from the bar in her shoulders.

“All right, chef, you got me. What do you want me to do?”

“I’m _not_ a chef yet.” Summer bit her lip and started fiddling with the end of her braid, hesitating.

Rory thumped down onto the bed and wiggled his shoes teasingly to her. Summer smiled and eased herself down to sit against the headboard.

“My friends and I called you the Rattlesnake Hottie for a while,” she told him, tentatively touching his chest and then more confidently when Rory puffed it out in inflated pride. “Or the Rattle-Snack. Every night, you seemed to leave with someone new.”

“Most of those were my friends,” he told her, scooting up on the bed so she could touch more of him. Rory did not mention that he had also slept with almost all of his friends.

Summer lightly traced around his pectorals and down his stomach. He twitched, ticklish and her fingers skidded away.

“Want me to take my shirt off?” he asked, not wanting her to fall into another awkward moment. And after that was gone, “And my pants?”

“Not yet.”

They repositioned themselves until Rory was against the headboard instead and Summer was in his lap, her hands all over his skin. Normally, Rory would have let himself indulge in sliding his hands under her shirt or even a cheeky squeeze for a handful under the skirt, but today, he wasn’t here solely for fun. His hands stayed around her waist.

They made out for a while. Summer, surprisingly, was a biter.

“Any chance I can eat you out?” Rory mumbled through stinging lips. He felt her shudder and her center where she was grinding against his thigh seemed to get hotter.

“Ah.” Her voice sounded thin and high. “You can if you want. Do you - ?”

“I want to.”

Shirt. Skirt. Summer smoothed a hand over her hair and let Rory lower her down.

“Okay?” He asked as he drifted down her collarbone over the soft cotton of her bra. “Okay?” Down her front to the edge of her panties. To her inner thighs and then to her center where Summer suddenly clamped her hands onto his head.

“Keep going,” she breathed as he inched her underwear down, “keep going, keep - oh.”

Rory rubbed and hummed and licked, drawing more of her wetness to help circle her clit, and ease a few more fingers inside. All the while, he listened to her breathing turn deeper and then higher and higher until her voice cracked and the bed began to shake.

Then he hunkered down, hitched one leg firmly over one shoulder, and really got to work.

Summer shrieked and twisted her hips, hooking her fingers into his hair and a part of his ear. She flailed and squeaked and smothered him against her just as he sealed his mouth and sucked. “Ah, _ah_ , stop stop _stop._ ”

Rory sat back and nearly fell off the edge of the bed. The top blanket was somehow on the floor, with a corner clutched in one of Summer’s hands. There was a very noticeable wet spot on the sheets and Rory watched it slowly spread as Summer curled on the bed and shook, another hand curled around herself.

“Okay?” he asked as he used the sheets to wipe his hands and face. He felt like one of those racehorses he saw on TV, heaving and shaking, in need of a rubdown and maybe a pat on the side. Summer accidentally kicked him as she yanked her panties the rest of the way off her ankle and fumble at her bra and then his pants.

Her breasts are frankly stunning and Rory can’t help help but stare.

“My turn,” she said and flipped their positions, tossing her braid over her shoulder. Apparently, all Summer needed was one orgasm to help her with her shyness because she briskly stripped him of his briefs in economical movements. He almost felt embarrassed. Almost. She straddled his hips and shuffled around, testing the different positions of her knees and thighs as Rory sweated. His dick kept bumping against her.

Summer grabbed it and for a second, Rory thought that she was going to try and bend it out of her way (ow), but instead, she seated herself on it in one smooth glide.

Rory wheezed and sat halfway up in response.

“This is what I want,” she said and someone help Rory before he shot his load like a teenager. “I want you to stay still. And I want to come like this.” She squeezed down on him and Rory jerked. “Don’t move,” she warned him as she started to roll her hips.

Rory took a breath and tucked his hands under the pillows. It was all about meditation. Rory had done it before. Pick a spot somewhere and focus on, all the while letting your thoughts close one by one like blown out candles. Relax your breathing. Think about nothing.

“Can I touch your boobs?” Rory blurted out.

Summer tweaked his nipple in rebuke and his hips twitched up. “No. You’re throwing off my concentration.”

Right. Right. Think about nothing. Even as Summer started to pick up the pace and bounce harder, making everything else, ahem, bounce as well. Her nails flexed in his skin and he pressed his head back away from the sight, trying not to breathe too deeply in case that set himself off. The burn was creeping down from his balls to his toes and he curled them.

He could still hear her bitten off curses and gasps and the wet, sucking sound - oh fuck, oh fuck.

“Now,” Summer gasped and his eyes flew open. She had changed her angle and was leaning over him. “Touch me now.”

Thank you, thank you.

“Harder,” she grunted as she pounded his pelvis to dust. “More.” He squeezed one breast, feeling the nipple tighten under his palm and finally, _finally_ planted his feet and began to buck up, doing his best to meet her in the middle.

Every inhale was sharp and every exhale was a whine, drowned out by the sounds of their bodies meeting together. Rory gritted his teeth and reached down to give her something to rub herself against every stroke down. Summer screwed her face and fell forward, hands on either side of his head as she shook and then suddenly bit down on him.

“Shit,” she muttered a few minutes later as they came down. “Sorry about that.”

Rory’s hips were sore. His shoulder was sore. And his dick was slowly making a steady comeback; Summer was letting him play with her boobs as an apology.

She prodded at the puffy bite mark on his shoulder and his dick took the _zing_ of pain as an invitation.

“Hey,” Rory said mildly to both her and his dick. He traced a path down the center of her chest and then lower. “You wanna go again?”

Summer considered the hand sneaking past her bellybutton. “Yeah, why not. You’re on top this time.”

He rolled up and pulled Summer by the ankles until she was hanging off the bed. “Sounds great to me.”

Summer knocked out two more orgasms one after another and tapped out. But she did let him finish on her breasts.

Rory was woken up in the morning by his phone ringing from somewhere. He rolled onto the perpetually damp carpet and fished it from between the nightstand and mattress where it must have fallen sometime during the night.

“Yeah?”

“Summer? Hello? Who is this? Where is Summer?”

Instead of answering, Rory tossed it to the curled up lump under the covers and then crawled on top.

“Summer? Summer! Are you okay? Who are you? Hey!”

“Travis!” A hand came out of the lump of blankets and snapped up the phone. Rory did not bother telling her that the phone was upside down. “I’m coming now. Tell Liberty not to get started ‘cause she’ll burn all the food.” She tossed the phone away and Rory took some satisfaction in reaching over to hang up on whoever Travis was before he could reply.

Summer unraveled herself from the covers and groaned. “I gotta go. It’s my birthday and I promised to eat breakfast with my friends.”

Giving into temptation, Rory fit his fingers on the crease of her ass and squeezed a little. “I don’t suppose I can give you a birthday present?”

She rubbed her opening thoughtfully. “I better not,” she said eventually, “I’m sore. And I probably won’t be able to afford rent.” Saying this, she got up and began searching.

Rory watched as she found her purse and began counting out the bills. Good sex and folding money?

“Thank you,” Summer told her as she handed the wad of cash to him, transformed once again to the shy woman that first entered the room.

He grinned. “And thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gets 69 hits* nice  
> *gets 100 hits* NICE  
> *gets a kudo* -sobbing- N I C E


	9. Year 1, Month 2

#  **Rumor Has It: Year 1, Month 2**

Thank you to all my faithful viewers who have been following my blog the last few weeks! I started this blog because of boredom, but the community is what really makes me want to continue. This is all a great way to kill time for anyone involved.

Question from  _ Big Fan-Pee Pee Man _ : How do you get your information? Who are your sources? Are they trustworthy?

Answer: First of all, really like the username. Business and party all in one. As for my sources, that’s a secret! Whether they are trustworthy or not changes from day to day and source to source. Sometimes they’re wrong, but I’m not a news blog. These are all rumors after all. And the tastier the rumor, the more delicious it is to dish them out. 

Question from  _ Spider_Rose8972 _ : Are you a boy or a girl? Btw, love that bit about mischievous interactions you can do to your friends without them hating you. It really helped bring out my more dastardly side <33333

Answer: I can definitely say that I… am not telling. Sorry, loyal readers! Let me have some protection here. I don’t want someone to read something about them here (it might happen) and hunt me down during a morning stroll. What will my family think? And who will give you guys delicious morsels and great tips to annoy your siblings by clogging their bathroom sink? But onto the main event!

Rumor has it…

We got a few new faces in our neighborhoods, tasty readers. The biggest splash is from the Spencer-Kim-Lewis family (am I saying that right?) who, believe it or not, have more family members than last names. Mother Alice is some big shot artist from the city who moved here with the family. Maybe for some “peace and quiet” out here in Willow Creek. But the juiciest rumor I heard is they are a family of swingers. Maybe they left behind that life and many broken hearts to bum around with us here. And maybe they’re just here for some fresher meat. We’ll see them out in public for one of Mortimer Goth’s fundraiser house parties. Who wouldn’t go? Keep your eyes peeled for anyone they leave the party with. Might I suggest a few couples that could use it? Sound off in the comments on which ones might be the most - and least - likely fit for the new monies that moved in. 

Another fresh new face is a sim named Rory. You might have seen him around. Tall, pink, and oh so handsome. I really think it’s the hair. Some of my tastier readers have messaged me to try and get an interview with him and I have to admit that I was, dare I say it, charmed? Perhaps a bit enamored? I’ll release that hot piece in a few weeks so keep your finger on the refresh button. But here’s a teaser: He has confirmed some rumors swirling around him in last week’s article. Which one? You’ll have to wait and see.

And lastly and leastly. How can we gloss over one of our own. Back from his ne'er-do-well adventuring. The prodigal son if we wanted to invite him back with open arms. Don Lothario. And I know what you’re thinking. How can we turn away an engine in our rumor mill? The way news articles over the years have churned them out for us? Well, it’s because he hasn’t churned any out for me! It’s been months and he’s been the faithful house husband of one Katrina Caliente. Oh, sure, she’s played around plenty. But the once overflowing well that was The Don has apparently ran dry. Disappointed? Me too. And it’s been so long since I was able to wet my whistle in that particular spring of water. A leopard never changes his spots. And a sim’s Plumbob never changes the direction of its rotation. Mark my words, readers. That Don Lothario is going to knock up a Caliente or two and flee the scene. And I’ll be here to dish every part out for you. 

Contact me  [ here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559338/chapters/63171754#comments) if you have a tasty rumor to dish out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, guys. Now I gotta write some porn before we get to the plot.  
> Plot? In my porn? It's more likely than you think.


	10. Geoffrey Landgraab/Rory/Nancy Landgraab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: anal sex, sex toys, pegging, cunnilingus, Nancy bad

“To be fair, I did warn you. I did tell you that once she saw us together, she’d be interested too.”

Geoffrey’s grip on Rory’s shirt tightened, rucking it up to nearly his neck as Rory once more, occupied his mouth until Geoffrey began to grunt and shake. 

He was a blotchy red all the way from his navel to his forehead, a skinny arm thrown over his face and his mouth very open and wet. Rory stuck the fingers that weren’t currently busy into that mouth in some impulsive curiosity and was met with teeth. 

“Sorry,” Geoffrey garbled around Rory’s fingers. “You surprised me.”

Rory felt around the grooves and dips. “Suck it,” he said. “Make it up to me.”

He did. The pressure of his mouth went straight to Rory’s groin. Drool dripped down his wrist and he had to hide a grin by rubbing his chin to the base of Geoffrey’s dick. It still had an edge of teeth to it and Rory didn’t know if it was hotter because Geoffrey was so inexperienced or because the twenty minutes of edging him was starting to fray at Geoffrey’s seemingly infinite patience. 

Speaking of which. 

He mouthed down one side and then the other just to hear the other man groan. 

Nancy had specifically told him a week in advance to get tested and then not to have penatrative sex with anybody. Ever since Summer had mistaken him for a sex worker a few weeks back, people were suddenly crawling out of the woodworks. Rory had a couple of sessions for the more mild requests. Like playing several hours of Don’t Wake the Llama with a man at a park or recording a reading of  _ Love in the Time of Sandwiches _ for a client who emailed him asking for a voice sample. A girl barely older than nineteen had brought him to her sister’s poetry reading and introduced Rory as her boyfriend (a bit weird) and then had a theatrical break-up with him in the parking lot that they had rehearsed with her before. 

The most uncomfortable was when a client had Rory come into the client’s house dressed to the nines (it was a rental) and then kick the ever living shit out of the client who was also dressed up. 

“Really just destroy me,” he had told Rory in the meeting before that session. “Like you hate me. Like you’d kill me and make my family pay for your dry cleaning.” His face was shining and Rory didn’t think much of it until he had that client gasping through his mouth because his nose was so clogged with blood. 

“I’ll stop you,” the client had insisted when Rory hemmed and hawed in that meeting. “Please. I promise I’ll stop you.”

But he didn’t. Not even when he fell down. Even as he hauled himself to his knees. Even as the client sniveled and wept. Rory had felt two seconds away from completely ruining the session and joining him, when the client pulled down his pants and exposed his very hard, very wet dick and began to masturbate furiously.

And Rory had asked, “What are you doing?”

And the client had taken it as part of the scene and he sobbed in gratitude and begged to be allowed to come and Rory had told him no and then left before the client was done coming in racking stipes up his own shirt, getting some on his chin.

Rory went home, perfectly immaculate in his three piece suit, not a hair out of place. Not even sweaty. He had stripped, taken a blistering hot shower, and had a very guilty jack-off session.

Not his weirdest nuts, but definitely not his proudest.

Especially when the client deposited half their agreed upon cost into his bank account because Rory apparently hadn’t stayed to punish him and lick the floors clean. People, Rory was coming to find out, were somehow all shades of cheap and generous and tender and entitled.

Nancy Landgraab was many things. Cheap was not one of them. Nor was generous. 

So when she caught wind that he had decided to charge people, she was not to be outdone. 

“ _ I _ will be your top paying client,” she had told him coldly. “ _ I _ will be  _ the  _ priority in your work. If you double book a session with another client, drop them. My schedule is unique. They are not.”

“So. You’re not mad?” Rory had asked. It was the only time when he had left the Landgraab mansion not covered in someone’s come. Nobody even took off their clothes.

“Mad? Hardly.” The red lighting of her office made it difficult to focus. The white pantsuit that Nancy was wearing looked very sinister, the shadows making it look bloodstained. A shiver went up Rory’s back. But it was kind of hot too. “I am a businesswoman first and foremost before I am anything else. I can appreciate your position even if your methods are lacking.”

And Rory wanted to put a foot up on the table just to see that calculating look pinch itself into something more familiar, but he resisted. She was a client now and still very dangerous.

Their first official session was now somehow twice the payout which made sense when Nancy directed him to her room and Geoffrey Landgraab was naked on top of the covers, clutching an unopened bottle of lube and the last shreds of his wits.

“Prep him,” Nancy had ordered. “But don’t. Let him. Come. I’ll expect you to be done in twenty minutes.” And then she had left. And came back. “Don’t touch yourself,” she added darkly.

“You can back out you know,” Rory told him again. The first five minutes had Geoffrey with his head between his knees while Rory multitasked in getting undressed, opening the lube, and giving soothing pats on Geoffrey’s pale back all at once. Nothing he can write on a resume if he decided to reenter the mainstream workforce, but a sim could be proud.

Geoffrey kept shaking his head, his lips quivering. He, Rory noticed, still had an impressive boner for someone who looked like they were going to puke. If he knew better, Rory would have thought that Nancy had somehow slipped Geoffrey a pill. Maybe grind it up into his tea or tofu stir-fry. 

“I want,” he said. “I just don’t know.” And he swallowed down the rest of his words. “I didn’t think she’d…”

“Didn’t think ol’ Nance would want to see you fucked right in front of her?” 

Rory threw himself onto the bed. No squeak. Only some crinkling. She probably had Geoffrey lay down some puppy pads under the sheet or something to keep the bed dry.

“Didn’t think she seemed like the cuckold type, to be honest with you. She’s more selfish.”

Geoffrey gulped noisily. 

“Do you really want to do this?” Rory asked as gently as possible. “I can call the whole thing off. Make her blow her top and forget about this.”

To his credit, it looked like Geoffrey thought about this beforehand because he pressed his lip into a stiff line and squared his shoulders and Rory was suddenly reminded that Geoffrey probably had a good number of years on him. He was almost old enough to be Rory’s father. Certainly married to Nancy before Rory knew what to use his dick for. He even had the whole dad bode down, a bit more pudge on his stomach. 

And that’s how Geoffrey ended up with his feet in the air and pillow tucked under his hips, wheezing as Rory added fingers and breathed hotly on his dick until it began welling up at the tip.

“She probably didn’t know this side of you,” Rory said around his mouthful. “Probably shocked her. Geoffrey Landgraab? Taking it up the ass? And liking it? It probably sent her world into shambles. Do you think she thought about this? About you like this as she fucks herself? She must have. Maybe late at night or in the shower or at her work - “

Geoffrey clapped a hand over Rory’s mouth, face redder than before, breath huffing between his teeth. Rory licked it and opened his mouth wide enough to worry at Geoffrey’s palm with his teeth. 

“I see you’re having fun.” 

Suddenly, Rory understood why Geoffrey had silenced him. 

“Who, us?” Rory said in the split second between all of them. Maybe this is why he was here. To be the sexual lubricate between two incompatible parts. 

Nancy glided in on stilettos, locking the door behind her. Rory let out a low whistle. “Look at you, Nance. All dressed up for a couple of fellas like us.”

She smoothed her hands down the bustier, laced in the front into a bow with simple blue panels on the sides. Rory ran his eyes down along the garters to her dark blue stockings, the material high quality and expensive. Nancy might actually let him put his grubby peasant hands on them, let the callous on his hands catch on the fabric. If he performed well today anyway. 

Rory carefully extracted his fingers from Geoffrey with a silent apology in the form of running his tongue on the sensitive, slick head. Geoffrey twitched but was quiet.

“Ready in under twenty minutes,” Rory told Nancy, showing off his wet fingers. She sniffed and click-clacked over to them, examining her husband with a critical eye. Rory had to remind himself that Nancy wasn’t the tender or entitled type either. What she got was what she deserved and what she deserved was usually what she got. 

He cheerfully stretched and used the lube on his fingers to run patterns on Geoffrey’s sensitive skin. “You okay with me fucking you now?” he asked Geoffrey who seemed to have gone away somewhere far away. Windenburg maybe.

“No.” Nancy was rooting for something under the bed and Rory saw the top swell of her breasts. “You’ll have the pleasure of being on the sidelines this time.” She held up a tangled harness and a blue dildo that matched her lingerie.

She really wasn’t the sharing type at all. 

As Nancy strapped herself in, Rory did a quick check with Geoffrey who looked… relieved? Some of the tension had seeped out of him, and he looked less resigned and more amused. 

The Landgraabs were Plum odd.

Nancy arranged them like so. Rory on his back, Geoffrey on top of him, and Nancy right behind him. 

She rolled a condom down the dildo and did another once over. “No, I changed my mind.” She grabbed Geoffrey’s hips, manicured nails digging into the flesh. “Like  _ this _ .” And then hauled him halfway off the bed so he was face level to Rory’s crotch and both feet planted on the floor.

“Don’t put it all the way in at first or he’ll get soft,” Rory warned, craning his neck to watch as Nancy lined herself up.

She shot him a very dark look over Geoffrey’s shoulder and Rory mimed zipping his mouth closed. She was the boss here. Got it.

But she went slow. In the beginning, everyone was very quiet minus the sounds of breathing and the occasional panting on Geoffrey’s end. And the crinkle of whatever was under the sheets. 

Around the time Nancy found a rhythm and Geoffrey’s breaths ended in more noise than gritted teeth, Rory decided to crank it up. 

“Permission to receive oral sex?” he piped up.

Nancy’s thrusting did not slow. “Granted,” she said and then started to put her back into it. Geoffrey let out a real groan and grabbed Rory’s knee in a death grip. Again, Rory let into temptation and slipped his non-lubed hand into his mouth. Geoffrey didn’t suck it this time, just letting the fingers pet along the silky smooth sides of his cheeks. He was drooling, eyes hazy. It was a familiar look. Maybe Nancy did know what she was doing. 

And then she  _ slapped _ Geoffrey’s ass. So hard the sound reverberated through the room. Rory could have sworn he saw birds take flight in the distance through the glass walls. 

“Suck,” she commanded and then pinched the reddening spot. Rory could already see the outlines of her five fingers on his skin. 

Geoffrey cried out a little and started to mouth his way up Rory’s dick and he had to put a hand on Geoffrey’s forehead to stop him from slamming his head against Rory’s stomach. 

Rory was no stranger to being part of a good ol’ spitroasting, but A. He was usually the one in the middle, B. The blower had given more than one blowjob before, and C. The blowee didn’t usually have to fear getting his dick chomped off because the other party was getting fucking  _ railed. _

“Nance,” he tried and was then distracted because part C was starting to look inevitable. Rory quickly wedged his fingers through Geoffrey’s mouth because bleeding fingers were always more preferable than the alternative. To his credit, Geoffrey really tried, but the combination of getting it up the ass and not being able to get the right angle had Rory worried that Nancy was going to fuck Geoffrey down his dick and Rory will get a firsthand look at whatever Geoffrey had last eaten.

From personal experience himself.

“Boss,” he tried again and this time, she stopped.

“You’re distracting him,” she said coldly. “Get out of the way.”

Gladly, he almost said. Rory quickly rolled over and let Geoffrey finally slump down into the mattress. The poor guy was sweating buckets and red everywhere. Would Nancy still pay if Geoffrey got a heart attack?

He wanted to pet Geoffrey’s back again, but it looked like Nancy would snap the two of them in half. The thrusts had graduated in strength and Rory could see the red on the top of Nancy’s thighs from where she was smacking into Geoffrey. He was twisting his shoulders and moaning slightly. Fidgeting and, from Rory’s view, frustrated.

“Permission to  _ give _ oral sex?” he asked.

For the first time since the session actually started, Nancy’s eyes flickered over to him. “Granted,” she said at last and Rory moved quickly before she could change her mind.

He slid under Geoffrey who just about collapsed into his mouth. 

Teeth, tongue, suction, and how much the person liked each. But this time wasn’t rocket science. Geoffrey just needed a leg up. Or a dick up. Whatever.

Rory tucked his teeth away and relaxed his entire body, letting Nancy fuck Geoffrey down his throat. 

He choked and slobbered a little, the sounds lining up with Nancy’s as Geoffrey sobbed arrhythmically between them and pressed Rory’s head against the mattress who breathed shallowly and slurped a little more in response.

By this time, Rory could practically count Geoffrey down to orgasm. The spasms, the sniffles, the tensing muscles in his stomach. His hand shot down to grab Rory’s hair as he gasped and came with one of Rory’s fingers teased his rim and the other pinched his nipple. 

Like he said. Not rocket science. 

He rolled away, coughing and gasping and licked his lips, waiting for Nancy to slow down.

She didn’t slow down.

“What are you doing?” Rory asked. Geoffrey was always too sensitive to keep going after he came. 

He was squirming and trying to roll over when she pinned an arm behind him and another on his head, keeping him immobile on the bed in a move that looked practiced.

Rory shot up straight. “Boss. Nancy!”

If he wanted to, Rory had no doubt that Geoffrey could have thrown Nancy off. But he still had his ass and his marriage at stake. 

Fucking Landgraabs.

Scenes like this only worked when both parties were willing to listen to  _ stop _ and give it. And with what he saw with Geoffrey, he wasn’t the type to say what he wanted until he was about to fall. 

Rory leaped up and wedged his hands between Nancy and Geoffrey Landgraab and pushed.

“Nancy, wait!”

Okay, it wasn’t as clean and careful as it could have been. Nancy popped out and Geoffrey yelped once and fell sideways off the bed. Onto his ass.

Nancy was dangerously still as Geoffrey hissed and tried to shuffle onto his feet, clutching his hip and shoulder.

“What is wrong with you,” she said flatly. “You broke our agreement.”

There was the childish urge to plant himself between the two of them with his arms outstretched.  _ Don’t cross this line _ .

“Our agreement didn’t have anything about when Geoffrey wanted to stop,” Rory said, trying to think fast. “I guess there was a loophole we both missed.”

Her eyes went from his face to Geoffrey huddled on the floor, swaying a little and breathing out of his mouth, tears too thick on his face to acknowledge either of them.

“He might not be used to this,” he continued. “But I am.” Rory stepped around Geoffrey to her and kneeled. He touched her knee and came very close to the dildo, condom still wet. “Let me, uh, put him away where he can relax and we can continue this. Price negotiation pending of course,” he added.

It was quiet once more. Only punctured by sniffling. If Rory was going to get thrown out of the house, buttnaked and smelling of sex, it wouldn’t be the first time. If he was going to get thrown out of the house from the second floor, it wouldn’t be the first time. The glass component might be new though.

Nancy stripped the condom from the dildo with pinched fingers and Rory let himself relax for a bit. 

“Fine,” she said, sounding bored. “You have ten minutes.”

He probably couldn’t put it on a resume, but he could do a lot in ten minutes. He could get a stranger to give him a small loan, make a friend, get a kiss, get laid, or half a dozen other things. Shame he couldn’t commit to a single damn thing in his life. 

Rory carried Geoffrey to the bathroom, showered him off, dried him, flattened his frizzy hair, secured his glasses onto his face, ordered a Canadian bacon pizza, dressed him in only his fluffiest bathrobe and parked him in front of the TV. 

He was pushing twenty minutes when Geoffrey resurfaced and tried to get him to leave. 

“You sure? You know blowing Nancy off is, like, an almost daily thing for me now.”

But Geoffrey shook his head and curled up more on what must be the world’s most uncomfortable sofa.  _ You’re in danger _ , he didn’t say to Rory.  _ Nancy will make you pay _ . 

“Thank you,” Geoffrey said instead. And Rory didn’t say anything else to him.

When he came back up, Nancy was bare except her stilettos and strapon, along with a glass of wine. Rory didn’t know why he was surprised. 

She didn’t tell him that he was thirteen minutes late which was a bad sign. The dildo suction cupped to the floor between them was another. When Rory walked over to her, Nancy slapped him in the face. Not hard. Just enough to turn his head.

“Hmm. I guess your skin doesn’t show marks the same,” she remarked. “Kneel.”

He did. “Don’t let this fall,” she said conversationally and balanced the wineglass on top of his head.

Something fell at her feet. “Put that on.”

A cock ring. The wineglass wobbled as he stretched the cold silicone over himself.

Did Nancy Landgraab stockpile all this shit before or after she saw him and her husband in bed together?

“Ah. So you’ve done this before.” She toed his hands away and studied the ring snug around his balls. “I wonder if there’s anything I can do to you that you’ve never done before.”

Rory could smell her from where he sat. Maybe the Landgraabs all used the same brand of soap because all their many different products all smelled the same: expensive. It didn’t matter who he was with, Rory could always smell that expensiveness on their skin.

“This is what you will do.” She picked up the glass off Rory’s head and drained it. Then she threw it to the side where it shattered against one of the windows.

Bad sign, bad sign.

“I’m going to give you five minutes to prepare. And then you’re going to bounce on this.” She stepped on the dildo on the floor which flattened slightly under the heel of her shoe. “You are going to get me wet and maybe. I’ll fuck you too. Understood?”

His dick understood. Loud and clear. Rory cleared his throat and nodded.

Nancy kicked the lube over to him and sat herself on the bed. “Time is ticking.”

Rory shuddered and uncapped the lube.

Another couple things on his resume: good motor skills. Strong coordination. Creativity. 

She had his hands cuffed at his back so Rory couldn’t use them to balance himself or help in shifting the harness strap away from Nancy’s center. He had to curve his tongue around the stiff fabric, slobbering helplessly. His knees hurt from the ground. His back was tense. His jaw ached. But he didn’t stop his tries, no matter how desperate they became as time went by.

The position of the dildo didn’t help matters, never really getting to  _ just _ the right spot, making Rory pant and squirm on it from want. Which was probably what Nancy wanted. Rory grazed his dick against her leg twice and twice, a  _ zing _ went straight up his spine followed by a slap in the face.

“You are…” she combed through his hair as he slurped helplessly and hump his hips harder, “so sloppy.” Nancy wretched his head back and he gasped sharply, staring at the ceiling. The sun outside was starting to set and throw orange light into the room. 

It might have been romantic if Rory was with almost anyone else. 

“Down.” And Rory found himself going face first into the bed, in almost the same spot as Geoffrey. She knocked his legs apart wider and slid in with little preamble.

Rory curled forward, trying to adjust quickly because Nancy would not wait for him the same way she did with Geoffrey. That much was certain. 

Her nails were like fishhooks and the more he tried to angle his hips for that one spot, the more they dug in. 

“Permission to touch myself,” Rory hissed out.

“Denied.” Her thrusts were constant and even and harder than he expected, like his body forgot the shock of the impact every time in the space of a breath. “Come like this.”

Moaning, he fisted his hands into the mattress, feeling the crinkle. “Please,” he bit out.

“Come like this or don’t come at all,” Nancy commanded. Her breathing sounded more labored and Rory hoped she would tire out enough for Rory to either convince her to let him jerk himself off or trick her into thinking that she picked the angle that would finally push him over the edge. 

“The ring - ”

“Like this. Or not at all.”

Agonized, Rory buried his face into the expensive sheets and humped back to meet her which Nancy actually allowed. She even let him hitch a knee up onto the bed to direct her thrusts just a few centimeters - 

Her thrusts were becoming too sharp and painful and Rory felt almost paralyzed from them.

Which was why coming was such a damn surprise. It was probably a defense mechanism to be terribly truthful. Rory muffled his yelling into his fists and the 1000 count cotton. His leg kicked out, thankfully only meeting air.

He expected Nancy to continue like she did with Geoffrey. But she pulled out before he was done and started to jerk the harness off. 

“Turn over on the bed,” she panted. 

Dazed, he obeyed, accidentally slipping on the wet spot and landing ungracefully on his back.

Nancy was entirely naked and the last thing he saw was the hectic red of her cheeks right before she sat on his face and began to ride.

Like the fucking, she did not give him much time to adjust. 

Still out of it, Rory opened his mouth and relaxed his body, much like he did for Geoffrey, slurping occasionally. He only started to put effort into it when Nancy planted one hand on the headboard and the other through his hair and jerked his neck up into an awkward angle.

“Suck.”

Rory obeyed, letting Nancy hump and rub herself on his face, applying appropriate suction whenever deemed necessary and breathing when he could. 

Nancy moaned and his mouth filled with warmth and he moaned back on reflex.

When Nancy shuffled back, it was dark. He was wet from his forehead to his chin and felt the air chill him.

“Guh,” he mumbled when Nancy grabbed his erection (when did that happen) and sat down on it all at once.

She had his wrists pin under her knees and Rory let himself watch as pressure started to build and then continue building at his spine and pool to the base.

He hissed and grunted his shot into her, twitching as Nancy continued to ride him until he grew soft. 

She made a scornful noise and crawled back to his face once more.

“Clean me up,” she ordered.

And Rory obeyed.

By the time it was all said and done, it was quiet in the house. 

Nancy permitted him to shower and then pointedly closed the door to the master bedroom.

Rory felt odd in his clothes and his body. Downstairs, Geoffrey was still curled up on the sofa, the large television reflected in his glasses. His head was tilted back, mouth open and snoring.

The pizza box was balanced on the sofa arm and a side table and Rory helped himself to two slices which he stacked on top of each other. And then he started to walk home.

Or he tried. 

Rory wandered up and down the street and while he had walked home from the Affluista Mansion before, it had never taken him this long. 

Long after the pizzas were eaten to the crusts and long after the moon rose and fell in the sky. 

By the time he opened the door to his one bedroom house and saw the light change color through his windows, Rory suddenly felt his exhaustion like a slap. He tossed the pizza crusts onto his dresser and collapsed on his bed.

He shivered and shook. But he did not cry. And when it was time to wake up for the next session with another client, Rory’s Plumbob was green again and he had forgotten everything he had dreamed about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of person have I become where I am impatient to blow through the porn to get to the REAL plot?
> 
> I'm less motivated to write this than before. Why can't I just beam my story onto the computer. Or into the universe. Read my thoughts and suffer.


	11. Dina Caliente, or The Don Lothario Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tags: being bad at chess, eating cake, and being bad at feelings

When Dina came down one morning and found Katrina meticulously setting down silverware in their barely used dining room, she turned and went straight back upstairs.

“It has to be some sort of bad news. Maybe she lost her job. Or we’re actually really behind on our bills? Think we should expect the Landgraabs to personally turn off our power?”

From underneath Dina, the lump shifted to reveal a single bleary eye peering at her from under a pillow.

“Get the hell out of my room,” Nina growled.

Dina let her sister disappear under the covers once more before starting again. “Or maybe it’s good news and she wants to celebrate? A raise? The lottery?”

“Or maybe.” Nina rose up still under the covers like a wraith. “She finally decided to make one of us an  _ only child! _ ”

If Katrina didn’t know that they were awake, she did now. Between the pillow whumping and the surprisingly guttural screeching, it would be no wonder if the entire neighborhood heard them.

They only stopped when they heard banging; Katrina had decided to break out ye ol’ broomstick to smack on the dining room ceiling. “Girls!” she called in a far cheerful voice than she usually used, “I need to speak to you about something!”

By the time Dina literally dragged her sister out of bed and halfway down the stairs (No, she will not go alone and live text Nina instead), Katrina had finished laying their… breakfast? Brunch? Pancakes, eggs, and toast. Nothing fancy. Especially compared to the glasses of love potion #4.

“Hope it’s poisoned.”

Katrina smiled beatifically at Nina, too used to her temper in the morning. “I can add something special for yours if you want.”

“This looks good,” Dina said quickly. She didn’t want to risk finding out which was stronger, Nina’s morning wrath or Katrina’s rare mood. The two women didn’t just share similar looks after all. “What’s the occasion?”

Katrina’s smile widened. “Let’s eat first.” And then to Dina’s growing concern, she picked up a teapot that Dina was sure she never saw before. “Earl Grey?”

Between Nina’s ravenous appetite and Dina’s stress eating, the plates were picked relatively cleaned. Katrina waited until the two sisters took at least two sips of their drinks before speaking. 

“A tree fell on Don’s house, as you both know by now.”

“No,” they said at the same time. Nina always did her best to avoid Don since the very beginning and Dina was starting to follow her example. She hid in her room in the mornings and took the time where she would have been out jogging to whale at the punching bag that miraculously appeared on their second story balcony. Nina had even joined in every now and again.

“And I,” here Katrina bursted into a bigger smile, “have invited him to stay here. As my official boyfriend.”

“Oh, no,” Dina whispered which was easily overlooked due to Nina’s much louder, “Oh,  _ hell no. _ ”

“I know adjusting to someone new is difficult - ”

“Cut the bullshit,” Nina barked. “No way he’s moving in here. A fuck-fest sleepover we can handle, but I don’t want to see him draping his balls all over our furniture every day.”

“Don’t talk to him like that, when you barely interact with him.”

“We’ve known him longer than we’ve known you, believe it or not, ‘trina, and I can tell you - ”

“And I can tell  _ you _ that I don’t care. I’ve invited and he’s accepted - ”

“You haven’t even gone it over with us when  _ we live here too  _ \- ”

“I will not hear another word - ”

“It’s two to one and his vote doesn’t count just because you like the way he tickles your - ”

“Then go ahead and leave!”

Dina got up and started to stack their plates ducking between her sister and aunt to grab their plates as well. Don? Living here? With them?

Her breakfast was starting to crawl back up her throat.

“Oh, I see how it is! Your boy toy over your own fucking family!”

“I’m not putting anyone over my family and it’d help if you didn’t insist on putting yourself  _ under  _ him!”

Dina dropped the dishes on the counter and puked pink love potion #4 into the kitchen sink.

“But you’re in love with him?”

Dina stared down at the chessboard. She had escaped through the back door, scrambling over the fence that ran around their house like a teenager. Lucky for her, Bella Goth had a day off and it wasn’t Mortimer who answered the door or the sullen Cassandra. 

Their circles never quite crossed when they were younger. Dina only knew her as Michael Bachelor’s sister, a party animal and a juice connoisseur whom Nina had a weird rivalry that lasted until Bella smashed a piece of wedding cake into Nina’s face.

It was a proper brawl from then on.

Michael’s death was what really cinched them together, a tragic thread in their otherwise very different lives.

The Bella of the present did not chug juice and invite swarms of friends and admirers to hover at her side, the queen of the hive. This Bella was quiet and worn. The house parties the Goths threw had Mortimer at the center with Bella at his side and their children flanking them. A perfect nuclear family.

Dina captured one of Bella’s pawns with her knight, uncaring about strategy. The need for destruction, on others or on herself, was strong. Bella moved her rook and Dina quickly overtook it as well.

“Check.” Bella nudged her bishop over.

The pieces were heavy from being carved from stone. Dina rolled one of Bella’s pawns on the chessboard, not thinking of anything. Mortimer might have winced at this, but Bella did not grow up as a Goth. Although she certainly played as one.

“You can’t let me win just this once?” she whined, flicking over her king with a solid clack from stone on stone.

“You would have called me out on it.”

Dina crossed her arms and kicked at the chessboard stand. Also stone. The entire thing was probably older and more valuable than Dina and she had to wonder if the house was just built around it.

“I’m not in love with him. I just. I  _ could _ have been in love with him. Is the thing.” She quickly looked up at Bella, remembering the man that connected them both. 

But Bella just nodded. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“But it’s scary.”

“It is.”

Bella was a gracious hostess and let Dina have some strawberry cake leftover from one of their house parties. The entire cake. They both pretended that Dina would have used the fork and plate even if she was alone instead of digging in with her grubby hands.

“I can’t believe I even like him,” Dina grumbled. She was two pieces in and was showing no signs of slowing down. She even managed to convince Bella to eat cake too. It was her damn house after all. Calories didn’t count in your own house.

“Why?” Bella plopped an entire icing rose into her mouth with hedonistic glee.

“Because he’s Don  _ fucking _ Lothario!”

“Ah. ‘The engine in our rumor mill’ as  _ rumor has it _ .”

Dina rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you read that too.”

“Hey, it’s fun. It’s super overblown to say that all of you slept with him though.”

Dina busied herself with another bite.

“ _ No _ . Who?”

She glared at Bella.

“ _ You? _ ”

Fuck it. Dina pushed aside her empty plate and went fork first into the cake.

“Did he - ? Did you - ?” Bella’s eyes darted around and Dina knew immediately.

“Yeah, it was consensual. Just a big mistake.”

Bella sighed. “Oh, that’s good then.” And then she began laughing.

Dina nearly threw her fork at her. “Oh, fuck you.”

Bella wiped her eyes carefully, makeup still flawless. “I think it’s the other way around.” She plopped her chin into her hand, suddenly looking like the old Bella. The one from before. “Don fucking Lothario.” Dina raised a piece of cake to that. “After hanging around you like spiderwebs on an oak tree.”

“You mean me and Nina.”

Bella snorted. “Those two could not have been less interested in each other when you guys were growing up. And now.”

“He’s got what he wanted.” Dina pushed the cake away, feeling sugar on her teeth and tongue. The Don only enjoyed the chase. Once he had something, he always liked letting it go to run away again. And Dina had been running ever since the fire.

Bella ran a finger through the icing, destroying rose after rose with a delicate swirl of her manicured nail. “What are you going to do now?”

Telling Katrina would break her heart, but keeping silent would steadily chip at hers. In the end, nobody would be happy.

Dina shrugged. “What I do best.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have moved onto Japanese indie music because I am a fucking weeb. Add that to the notes, Your Honor, for the cancel courts.


	12. An Interlude: Nancy Landgraab’s Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter tag: male pregnancy

Nancy always planned her life in increments of ten years. It was both a short and long time, long enough to start making the right moves for her future yet short enough to work around unseen obstacles. Now she had a family of her own to care for, Nancy had to work extra hard to account for both Malcom’s and Geoffrey’s own ten years plan. 

Malcolm was old enough to create and implement his own plan with extra managing help from Nancy. He always reported to her twice a year on his progress and only needed some pointed nudging to send him in a  _ better _ direction.

Geoffrey was just hopeless.

The man in question dry-heaved into the toilet, his plump stomach protruding grotesquely. Nancy wrinkled her nose and touched her own stomach with careful fingers. She always did her best to disguise her own signs of growth in her own clever ways.

This was definitely not in either of their ten years.

Nancy ran through her mental to-do list. 

A cheap pregnancy test would not do. Especially for male sims since male pregnancies were quite rare. If Nancy knew that Geoffrey’s family had this sort of  _ breeding _ , she would have thought twice about marrying him and thrice about bringing in such a whorish tomcat like Rory into her marriage. Really. Bedding her husband not even within twelve hours of bringing him into her house.

An at home sonogram for the both of them. The family doctor from all the way in Sunset Valley. The family lawyer to look at the non-disclosure agreement again. And a hitman positioned at each of the doctor’s and lawyer’s homes with updated photos of their immediate families. 

A fire. A disappearance. A drowning. It didn’t really matter.

What mattered was here and now. 

“You’re going to have leave time from work,” Nancy told Geoffrey after he finally flushed, washed, and then brushed his teeth.

Geoffrey squinted at her. His hair was matted to his forehead and eyes were red. “For how long,” he croaked pitifully.

Nancy paused in the middle of scrolling through pictures. The doctor had a lovely blonde son just like Malcolm and the lawyer’s sister just gave birth to a very chubby baby girl. Very vulnerable looking.

“For five months it looks like. Give or take a month depending on your health.”

Nancy walked away, moving on to contractors.

They needed a new baby wing after all.


	13. Rumor Has It: Year 1, Month 4

#  **Rumor Has It: Year 1, Month 4**

Well.

Well.

Well.

Tasty readers, did I not tell you in my last entry?

Good ol’ Don Lothario’s house has been destroyed from a palm tree and where does he end up heading towards, spotted tail up? Katrina Caliente and The Don have been seen taking romantic evening walks around the Mirage. But what’s this? It seems The Don and the blonde Caliente sister have parted ways and readers report that The Don has been enjoying his morning runs by himself. Lonelier than the view from an observatory. I wonder when that minx of a Caliente might mix her way into this potential thruple? I could make the fruit and tree joke, but I don’t think I need to say it.

And speaking of fruits, it seems someone’s has been plucked at the Desert Park. Let me confess something to you, my tasty readers. I’ve been planting some, shall we say, _tampered_ goods in the park lounge area? If you’re early enough for this particular treasure hunt, you’ll find out. Sound off in the comments when you see it and _boy_ , I hope you see it before you use it. But onto a particular scrumptious bit.

Rumor has it...

The Landgraabs have moved away! Oh, their house is still theirs and the maids still come and go. Contractors have been at it night and day for some new renovations on the house. But Detective Geoffrey Landgraab has disappeared from the public view! One of our readers who _happen_ to know a sim who knows a sim reports that our hardworking detective has gone on sick leave. Perhaps nasty Nancy has finally done the deed and sent him to live with some relatives... upstate? Nancy Jr., aka, Malcolm Landgraab has been pulled from Buckingham High. Where the family went is a mystery! Perhaps some readers can keep a sharp eye out for this family. Sniff the air sometimes; you might be able to catch the linger smell of money.

But our biggest upset is from the new rumor mill darling! Rory has been spotted with several new and different people around the area. I don’t know about you, readers, but some of these sims don’t exactly scream Oasis Springstownie to me. And much too _northern_ to be a Willow Creek resident either. One of our readers have admitted that they have been one of his... clients in the past few weeks. Whose pies has he been fingering? Rory, dear, we agreed to not be strangers! One thing is for sure; he has become _very_ popular of late. I might be interested in becoming a very good friend of his at this rate.

Readers, can I keep you waiting on a particular cliffhanger? Hmm... Well, I suppose that can wait until next week. But I will say this: the fact that we all saw Rory wandering around like a lost lover that night and the fact that the Landgraabs pulled off a disappearing act the very next day? Perhaps more connected than we intially thought last week. Stew on that until our next gossip swap.

Contact me [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559338/chapters/63171754#comments) if you have a tasty rumor to dish out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New job! New laptop!


	14. An Interlude: Dina Caliente’s Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unplanned pregnancy, Dina unintentionally scaring Bob Pancakes

“Eating for two!” chirped the device in a digital voice and Dina threw the pregnancy test as hard as she could against the door.

Plum fucking damn it. She clutched at her middle, hunched over on her work toilet with seven minutes left in her dinner break.

At first, she could attribute her lack of appetite and lethargy to the particular slump from _that_ incident. Avoiding Don had been easier than Dina expected since their schedules never really lined up. He woke up early to run and workout before eating lunch and then going straight into work. Evenings would be spent out with Katrina.

In contrast, Dina would hid in her room until Don left, nearly throw her arms out from using the punching bag until she spotted his distant figure coming back, and then leap in and out of the shower like she was in high school again to once again hide in her room until he left for work. (And what a surprise when Dina found out that The Don had somehow gotten a paying job.)

To avoid running into Don at bars (she could never really concentrate at tending bars anymore), Dina pulled a shit ton of overtime and cut her teeth at being a line cook. She had then cornered poor Bob Pancakes in the walk-in freezer with one hand strangling the neck of a wine bottle and the other holding a paring knife that she used to cut up twenty limes with. A hundred limes. All of the limes.

“You’re the head caterer,” she had snarled, going on four hours of sleep and hearing Don’s smooth, rumbly voice in her ear calling her sweetheart while patiently coaxing another orgasm out of her every time she set another drink down for some drunk fucker who complained about her music choice and then tried to stroke her hand. “I’ve working harder than _Summer Holiday_ _and_ her entire boy bandin the catering side. She can take over for me. Make it happen.”

She didn’t particularly dislike Summer Holiday other than the fact that she had a joke of a name and was known to the other customers as “the pretty blonde.” Dina was just getting tired of watching her coworkers stare at Summer Holiday’s chest when talking to her and Summer Holiday just taking it all into stride. She wanted to crack someone’s teeth into the bar. Bob Pancakes would probably be too afraid to fire her.

“She can make drinks up front and I can make the food in the back. Win-win-win for everyone.” Dina had to stop herself from ripping the cork out of the wine bottle with her teeth and drinking it straight in front of her supervisor.

Michael used to call her sweetheart and touch her with gentle hands too. What use were gentle hands when there was no guarantee they would be with you for the rest of your life?

Bob Pancakes had clutched the package of freezer burnt pork chops to his chest. He looked _this_ close to using it as distraction like Dina was a particularly hungry dog or an angry bull.

“We could talk about this in our next review session together.” Bob said timidly. _Olé_ _!_

“No,” Dina replied simply. “You need another line cook. Summer needs to have a bar between herself and other people. This is the perfect time.”

“Let me think about it. There’s no promise you’ll get the job.”

Dina was waiting outside the walk-in freezer, still holding the bottle and knife when Bob Pancakes finally came out.

“Okay. You got the job.”

The pregancy test was thankfully silent now. Outside was the distant murmur of voices as customers started to trickle in from the dinner time rush.

There was still eight months to go. That should be more than enough time for Don’s house to get fixed. And maybe enough time to decide what to do.

Dina straightened her new work uniform; she still had four hours left until she could go home and blast the entire album from _Chachi and the Chinchillas_ on repeat through her headphones while she ignored the sounds of Katrina and Don fucking in the next room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *reading own writing* Oh, this is kinda fun. *gets to chapter 10* Oh. Why.
> 
> I forgot that I wrote Nancy like... that.


End file.
